


Winterhawk shorts

by eyasarcher



Series: Shorts [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Shorts, Tumblr, prompted, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 41
Words: 53,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyasarcher/pseuds/eyasarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of all my prompted Tumblr shorts. Mostly winterhawk, but maybe some other stuff too.<br/>Please feel free to leave prompts @ icantseemtomiss on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winterhawk/Domestic fluff

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how many times I proof read, I always miss something so please excuse any typos.

" **winterhawk domestic fluffiness with injured Clint and mother hen Bucky**."

* * *

 

“I was away for a week, I asked you to babysit him, _for a week_ , and now he’s bed ridden. Steve, what the hell!?”

Bucky’s pace increases as he follows Steve down the corridor, his whole body is tight and clenched together. His flesh hand is shaking slightly as he tries to hold back full body tremors. It seems overdramatic but Bucky and Barton were joined at the hip; an inseparable pair.

“I’m sorry Buck, but you know Clint better than anyone, you know that he’s a reckless mess! There was nothing I could do. One minute he was on the comms with Tony and the next he was jumping off of a goddamn building.”

Bucky huffs out a frustrated laugh before reaching up to run his hand’s through his tangled hair. He and Natasha were away for one week, one goddamned week and in that time Clint had managed to puncture a fucking lung, break three ribs and nearly bleed out; among other things.

“He’s gonna be the death of me,” Bucky whispers woefully as the two turn off into the elevator. Steve drags Bucky in before stabbing at the button for Clint’s floor, he then turns his attention to the sniper.

“He’s gonna be fine Buck-“                                                                        

“I know he’s gonna be fine, I’m just pissed off that he got himself hurt in the first place.”

Steve smiles sympathetically before thumping a hand onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“He’s a pain in the ass.”

Bucky nods slightly before turning to look at his friend, a sad smile paints itself on his face and he shudders.

“Why is Clint always the one that ends up in this situation though? Why can’t he just be normal and stop getting himself hurt?”

“Because he wouldn’t be Clint if he wasn’t breaking something.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh before taking Steve under his arm, he smiles softly and leans his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“Like I said, he’s gonna be the death of me.” He murmurs into the super soldiers shoulder.

As if on cue, the doors ping open telling the two men that they’ve arrived on Clint’s floor. Bucky inhales deeply and pulls away from Steve, he whispers a goodbye before stepping out onto the floor. As per usual, Barton’s floor is an absolute mess. There’s empty pizza boxes strewn across the carpet and Lucky is among the mess, eating whatever scraps are left lying about. And in the centre of the room, on the sofa, is Clint, tucked up under one of Bucky’s hoodies.

“I can’t leave you for five minutes,” Bucky says loudly. The archer shrugs off the hood, he looks exhausted, his skin is pale and black bags hang from his lashes, but still, there’s a fond smile set on his lips.

“Hey you,” Clint’s voice comes out gravelly and thick, it’s tinged with pain.

Bucky crosses the room, his hand shaking a little more than before. Once he gets to Clint he reaches out to gently touch the other man’s face. Clint’s smile widens and he leans into Bucky’s touch with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes fall closed and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“I missed you,” Clint whispers.

Bucky sighs before leaning down to bring their lips together, the kiss is gentle and timid, Bucky too afraid to damage the archer further.

“I just about laid an egg when Steve called me,” Bucky says against Clint’s chapped lips. Barton laughs into the kiss before gingerly pulling Bucky further into him.

“Did I stress you out baby?” He says onto Bucky’s lips.

With a huff the sniper pulls away from the other man, his hand still resting lightly on the back of Clint’s neck. He mock frowns and chuffs at his partner.

“You did more than stress me out, I was just about ready to hijack a plane and fly home myself, Nat wouldn’t allow it. Told me to stay grounded.”

Clint laughs through the pain pooling in his chest before gently running his hands through Bucky’s matted hair.

“You, grounded? Hilarious.”

Bucky smirks before resting his forehead against Clint’s, the tips of their noses brushing carefully against one another.

“You’re such a punk.”

Clint chuckles slightly and brings the two even closer together.

“But you love me for it.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Bucky says before brushing his lips gently against Clint’s.


	2. Winterhawk/Times like this I question your intelligence

" **Times like this i doubt your intelligence.** "

* * *

 

“Clint, I promise you, I know what I’m doing.”

That’s not the first time I’ve heard Bucky say that, and the last time? Well, let’s just say that Kate was not happy that _we_ (I use that term very loosely given the situation) nearly burnt down the apartment complex.

“I’m not sure Tony will appreciate it if you destroy his billion dollar building.”

Bucky pulls his head out from underneath the sink, there’s grease staining his cheeks meaning his ‘Winter Soldier’ glare, becomes slightly more believable, but still utterly ridiculous.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m just worried for everyone’s sake, that you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Bucky growls at me before sitting up and throwing the wrench between his hands, he looks quite offended that I would question his intelligence and know how.

“Look, I used to fix Steve up every time he got beaten senseless. I’m pretty sure I know how to fix a leaking pipe!”

Bucky Barnes everyone, a master assassin, howling commando and one of the best snipers in the world. Also a massive idiot. He doesn’t seem to see the difference between fixing Steve, and fixing anything and everything else.

“You know that Steve is a human being right? You know that you can’t just ‘stitch up’ this pipe, right? You also realise that we live with some of the smartest men alive today? I’m pretty sure if we asked Tony he wouldn’t have a problem wi-“

“No.”

If Bucky didn’t look offended before, he sure does now. It’s fine though, because it’s impossible for him to stay angry at me.

“Why not? Does it hurt you that I’m questioning your manliness?”

“Hey! I’m offended that you’re questioning my intelligence, not my manliness.”

I hop off of the table, this stirs Lucky awake and he slithers off of the floor bounding to Bucky’s side.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I won’t love you any less if you can’t fix my leaking pipe.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows questioningly as he trails his hand’s through Lucky’s coarse sandy fur.

“Why the hell do you make that sound like an innuendo?”

I grimace and drag my hands across my face before laughing into my palms.

“You act like you’re all innocent, but your mind is in the gutter.”

“Who do you think put it there?” Bucky’s voice is drawling with his Brooklyn accent and his face is now squared into a cocky smile.

“Well, we certainly know that it wasn’t that Mr eagle-ass, stern face of yours.”  

Bucky chuckles thickly before lightly pushing Lucky away and standing up, his hair falls across his face but I can still see the whites of his teeth glimmering behind the dark strands.

“It was you my dear,” Bucky’s hands find themselves on my hips and he’s dragging me in for a kiss. This is what he always does, get’s distracted. I mean, sure, I may play a huge role in that, but he should get the job done quicker, that way I won’t get as bored as fast.

“You’ve got a job to being doing Barnes.”

“And how can I do a job properly when I’ve got Mr hawk-ass, distracting face over here scrutinising me?”

“Touché.” 


	3. Winterhawk/Bucky's been busy.

" **clint starts finding new arrow prototypes laid out for him in the range and thinks they're from Tony. It turns out Bucky's been busy!"**

* * *

 

Clint hobbles onto the communal floor with a slouch in his shoulders and a limp in his step. He yawns in an exaggerated manner before grimacing and reaching back to massage at his sore shoulders.

“Rough one?” Tony calls from the sofa. Clint, Steve and Sam had taken Wanda and Bucky out training yesterday afternoon, and to say it went a little south, was a slight understatement.

Clint doesn’t say anything audible, instead he grunts and throws the billionaire an ill-lit glare before continuing on his way to the breakfast bar.

“Not great then I take it.” Tony chuckles lowly as he returns his attention back to the interactive screen in front of him.

Clint on the other hand, grabs at the coffee pot before grunting again and flopping against the counter, his head hitting it with a rather loud _bang_.

“I wanna go back to bed,” He mumbles against the countertop.

“Then go back to bed.” Tony giggles as he throws a half glance at the other man.

“Can’t sleep.” Clint murmurs quietly. He makes grabby hands at the pot and then, to his surprise, it’s pushed into his grasp, its warmth radiating through his body as his hands touch it.

“Feeling rough?” Bucky asks gently, his gaze fixed on the smaller man.

Clint peers up through his tiredness, Bucky has a fond smile painted on his lips.

“m’ going to the range.” Clint whispers before he picks up the coffee pot and leaves the floor.

He spends the next three hours down there, driving himself through the nightmares and trying his very hardest to exhaust himself, Clint figured that if he shot enough, if he made his muscles ache to the point where he couldn’t hold his arms up anymore, that maybe he’d be able to sleep better.

So, after almost 150 ends, and a horrible burning sensation in his ribs and shoulders, he decides to stop, unfortunately hurting more than actually feeling tired. He lets out a frustrated groan before crossing the floor and heading to the lockers. But he’s stopped. There, sat on the bench, is a neatly wrapped package, topped with purple ribbon. Clint approaches, scrawled in huge letters is **_CLINT_**.

The archer frowns and peers around the room, he has his aids in so he’s not entirely sure as to how he didn’t hear anyone come in… Unless the package was there when he first came in, he didn’t notice it though.

He carefully reaches forward to unwrap the present, his fingers grapple at the delicate paper and he can’t help but gasp at what’s lying in his hands.

Three beautiful custom carbon fibre arrows. The fletching is a deep shade of purple, with the notch being black, and even the shaft has a purple shine to it.

“Whoa.” Clint gently rolls the arrows over, examining them. That’s when he notices the tiny hole in the head of the arrow. He frowns and extends them down the length of his arm, carefully surveying it. He quickly flips one onto the ends of his fingers and examines the weight, they’re a little heavier than they probably should be.

He furrows his brows closer together before reaching down at the discarded note and flipping it over.

_Be careful, there’s chloromethyl in these bad boys. Enjoy._

“What the hell?” Clint says as his drops the packaging and returns his attention to the arrows. He’s been hassling Tony for months about having some gas infused arrows, one’s that would be perfect for drowning out Hydra rats from their grimy holes.

Tony has been on strict ‘only necessary tech stuff’ arrest since Steve picked up on the fact that the billionaire had barely been sleeping. Why on earth would he waste that precious time on prototypes?!

Clint decides to just leave it, he’ll thank Tony later.

Except the next morning, there’s another present. This time it’s wrapped up in silver paper, a little red ribbon strung across the middle.

Clint pauses his actions, he was in the process of stringing his bow when he had noticed the parcel sat on the bench.

“Friday, has Tony been in here again?” He asks carefully as he picks up the package with gentle hands.

“No. Sir hasn’t been in here for at least 72 hours.” The computer states honestly.

Clint once again finds a frown painted on his face. He couldn’t figure out why these kept ending up here, surely it would be Stark doing this, he’s the only one who’s tech savvy enough.

He unwraps them, this time with more desperation and a pretty subtle hint of frustration.

Once again, it’s a trio. These are different though, he can recognise the type of head.

The point of the arrow is separated by a small gap in the working. And with a gentle shake, there’s a slight clinking sound, like metal is bouncing around inside of the body of the arrow. These are shrapnel arrows, Clint has been mapping these out for months. But he never got round to making a prototype, someone did though.

“Friday, you need to let me know who has been putting these here.” Clint says absently as he flips the arrows with a look of awe etched onto his face.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.” She says bluntly, Clint groans and lols back on his heels to look up at the ceiling in a frustrated manner.

“Damn you.”

He’s of course prepared the next day, he goes into the range expecting to find a parcel, and find one he does.

This time, the arrows aren’t wrapped, there’s a silver bow holding them together, but no packaging.

“Well, they don’t seem too bothered about presentation anymore,” Clint says sarcastically as he sighs and separates the equipment.

Now these arrows, are a little more special than the last. Clint’s jaw drops as he realises exactly what he’s holding in his hands.

Vibranium arrows, with trackers attached at the base, just in case he lost them during combat. The archer gently runs his calloused fingers across the cool metal, his eyes comically wide with the knowledge of how long these would have been in the making.

The shafts are all just basic Vibranium, silvery and smooth. The fletching however, is two piece of red plastic and one purple knocker. Even the notch is Vibranium.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man gasps as he carefully puts them back on the bench. “Friday, do you know who’s been making these?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me?”

“No.”

“Okay, new question. Do you know how long these ones took to make?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“Approximately three weeks per arrow, sir.”

Clint laughs, he laughs because this is really taking the piss. Someone in this tower is actually taking the time to make these amazing little pieces, someone actually understands how important these are to him, and it overwhelms the archer, so much so that his laughter descends into tears.

Clint ends up on the floor, his hands cupped across his face as he cracks out something between laughter and sobs. He’s not aware of how long he’s there, until he hears the doors opening.

“Barton, you okay down there?” Bucky’s voice sounds somewhat amused but there’s definitely a serious tone there.

“Yeah, m’ fine.”

He hears the sniper approaching.

“I don’t think crying on the floor qualifies as fine.” Bucky says gently as he crouches down to get a closer look at the other man. “Clint?” he reaches out to place a hand on the other man’s shoulder, his face pulled into a rather worried expression.

“Honestly, I’m…. I’m okay.” Clint sniffs as he finally looks up and tries his best to pull a convincing smile.

Bucky laughs softly and moves his hand slightly, his gaze follows and it’s then that he notices the arrows discarded by Clint’s side. Panic surges through his body and suddenly he feels pretty terrible.

“Shit, do you not like them?”

Bucky’s gaze is fixed firmly on the arrows so he completely misses Clint’s confused expression. “Look, I really didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d like them, that they’d make a nice surprise. You’ve seemed kinda distant and I wanted to make some kind of a gestu-“

“You made those?” Clint asks carefully, his eyes not leaving Bucky’s face.

Bucky of course blushes slightly and ducks his head, his face almost concealed by his dark hair.

“Urm, yeah. But I’m not gonna be offended if you don’t like the-“

“Buck, I love them.” Clint practically whispers.

Bucky snaps his head up, his gaze meeting the other mans.

“Wait, really?”

Clint chuckles at the irony before he reaches up to his shoulder and curls his hand around Bucky’s.

“Yeah.” The archer’s voice is raspy as he says it, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s, even when the sniper tenses at the contact.

“Look Clint, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since that night in Belgium. I know that we vowed never to talk about it, but I can’t stop thinkin-“

Clint closes the space between the two, his hand leaving Bucky’s and instead gently falling onto the other man’s cheek.

Bucky’s lips are warm and soft, and it takes the sniper a minute or two before he’s responding, his metal hand closing around Clint’s wrist as he’s mindful of his strength. The kiss is kind of rushed and a bit sloppy, but none the less there’s an intense passion lying there, an obvious call of unsaid things.

Clint gently pulls away, his eyes opening to meet Bucky’s blown pupils.

“I’m so glad it was you and not Stark, do you know how long I’ve been looking for a sign like this. Jesus Christ, you took your time Barnes.”

Bucky chuckles shyly as he reaches forward to place a fleeting and soft kiss on Clint’s lips.

“I like to bide my time.”


	4. Winterhawk/Bucky carrying Clint

" **Bucky carrying Clint fic I need it!"**

* * *

 

Clint stumbled into the kitchen, a content yawn on his lips and a warmth settled in his chest. The kitchen was open plan and in his state (he hasn’t turned on his aids) he completely missed the fact that more or less the entire team were sat across the room on the sofas.

And as he was going about his business, making his morning coffee, an interactive tab popped up on the counter in front of him.

_Barton, turn your ass around_

And he suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that he could feel eyes on him. He internally winced before reaching up to flick his aids on.

“You alive over there Clint?” Tony’s voice was riddled with amusement and Clint was pretty sure that he was holding back hysterical laughter.

The archer slowly turns, a sort of tarnished expression sat on his features. Sat on the other side of the room is Tony, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Rhodey and Peter. Thankfully Rhodes and Peter are too pre-occupied with the game they’re currently playing on the PS4. But the others are watching Clint with curious expressions.

“What?” Clint asks, his voice is thick with sleep and his body suddenly feels a whole lot more tense than it did five minutes ago.

“You’re wearing Bucky’s clothes.” Wanda says softly, there’s a small smile pulling at her lips.

Clint pauses, his body going rigid and eyes widening.

 _Well, shit._ He’d kind of forgotten about that.

“Clint, are you and Barnes fucking?” Tony says far too casually for Clint’s liking.

“No!” Clint says probably a bit too quickly because Steve goes bright red with a blush and Natasha smirks raising her eyebrows.

“Oh my god, you totally are!” Tony jumps up so that he’s grabbing at the back of the sofa, there’s a huge grin sat on his lips and Clint can only grimace, his hand reaching up to claw at the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going back to bed.” He says casually before flicking off his ears and leaving both his coffee, and a rather giggly Tony, but his plans are foiled when he walks face first into Bucky.

“Aw, Buck, no.” He whines as he proceeds to nuzzle his embarrassment further into Bucky’s chest. But, much to the archers shock, Bucky reaches up and gently turns Clint’s aids back on, his hand lingering against Clint’s jaw.

“They’re 120% banging each other!” Clint can hear Tony babbling on the other side of the room, but right now he’s too focused on Bucky’s ‘post sleep bliss’ in which the sniper looks truly amazing. His eyes are swimming with the evidence of a good night’s sleep and his hair is all messed up and hanging across his face, but best of all, there’s a very fond smile set on his features.

“Morning,” he says quietly as he strokes his hand down Clint’s face.

“OH C’MON!” Tony practically screams.

“Tony, leave them alone.” Steve says, but there’s definitely a surprised edge to his voice which makes Bucky laugh slightly as he briefly looks at the rest of the team.

“Can we go back to bed?” Clint asks, his lips pulled into a mock pout as he stares up at Bucky with a pretty convincing set of puppy dog eyes.

Bucky sighs happily and proceeds to hook his arms underneath the smaller man and pulls him into a bridal carry.

Tony howls from across the room, shouting about Steve owing him $100.

Clint isn’t bothered though, he sighs happily and closes his eyes before burying his face into Bucky’s chest.

“Later guys.” Bucky laughs before nuzzling his face into Clint’s sandy hair and carrying the two back to bed.

“Thanks Buck.” Clint whispers, the smile evident in his voice.

Bucky huffs into Clint’s hair before placing a gentle kiss on the archer’s head.

“Thanks for saving you from interrogation, or thanks for carrying you back?”

Clint opens his eyes to smirk up at his boyfriend.

“More so the interrogation. That doesn’t mean I can’t get used to being carried around, makes my life a whole easier.”

Bucky chuckles and smiles down fondly at his partner.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Clint states nuzzling his head back into Bucky’s chest.

“You’re right, I don’t.”


	5. Winterhawk/ H/C Clint.

**"H/C fic were Clint gets knocked out during a fight and taken by villainous group of writer's choice. Cue Bucky going full out winter solider and kicking everyone's ass to get him back."**

* * *

 

“Buck, I think you need to calm down.” Steve places his hand against Bucky’s chest his fingers splayed out as he tries to push the other man back, all attempts are in vein though.

“And I think you need to get out of my way, Steve!” Bucky hisses through his teeth, there’s a menacing glare cutting through the shadows being cast across his face, his jaw is locked and his mouth is pursed into a flat line.

“Listen terminator, I think you should listen to Cap-“

Bucky suddenly bursts forward, he’s storming towards the flight deck when Steve grabs at his shoulder, pulling him back. This in turn causes Bucky to spin round, sending the stronger a man a sharp and pointed look.

“If it was Tony out there, you would do exactly the same. Now get the fuck off of me, I don’t want to hurt you, Steve.”

The captain drops his stance, his shoulders slump and he reaches up to cup his hands over his face in defeat.

“Fine, but Bucky, let us come with you,” he says through the gaps in his fingers.

“Don’t worry.” Bucky says with a sadistic laugh. “Nat’s already got the quinjet set up.

Clint on the other hand, is trying his best to remain calm. His situation is getting pretty dire. He’s been in Hydra’s hands for at least three days now, and during that time he’s lost one of his hearing aids, had 4 of his ribs broken, shattered his knee caps, broken all his fingers on one hand, and now finds himself bound to a chair, with next to no clothes on.

He’s not usually one to break when it comes to interrogation, but whenever this had happened in the past, he didn’t have much to lose. But now he has his friends, his team; his Bucky.

“So, you wanna start talking yet?” Rumlow asks from the door. He’s swinging around a bat that’s already painted with Clint’s blood.

“Hmmm. Maybe ask me again when I meet you in hell, then I’ll consider.” Clint tries his best to hide his pain and discomfort, instead opting for a cheeky half smile.

This of course doesn’t go down well with Crossbones. Brock crosses the room, and Clint feels the steel of the bat cracking his skull before he even sees Brock reach him. For a few seconds, the world goes quiet, there’s a static sound bouncing around the walls of his mind and it takes him a while just to get his eyes to open, he’s unsurprised to feel hot liquid running down the side of his face.

“Aw, that seemed kind of unnecessary.” Clint splutters, and despite the latter, he still manages to smirk. This infuriates Brock who opts to spit in the archers face in response.

“Y’know, that gesture is actually perceived as rude in many parts of the world. But I suppose you don’t care much for culture, or society for that matter.” Clint mocks.

“Fucking hell Barton, you need to know when the right time to open your mouth is. If only you’d talk to me about the co-ordinates, and not culture.” Brock glares down at the other man, his hand clenching around the handle of the bat.

“Well, according to my boyfriend, I’m pretty good at keeping my mouth open.”

And Clint can’t help the laughter that slips when he sees the disgusted expression etched onto the other man’s face.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Is all Rumlow says before the hits start coming again. This time though, they’re co-ordinated and concentrated. Rumlow lands several punches on Clint’s sternum, winding him and causing him to choke, he then takes the bat and lashes it across the archers already aching ribs. Clint has to bite his tongue to stop the pained scream from creeping out. 

“Talk now, Barton. One more chance.”

Clint waits for the hits to stop before he takes the chance to spit a clump of blood and saliva into the other man’s face.

“Go fuck yourself, you traitorous scumbag. I’m not telling you nothing.” Clint drawls, and suddenly he realises how familiar his own voice sounds, as if Bucky is there holding cue cards and teaching him exactly how to say it; he sounds like he’s from fucking Brooklyn, he makes a mental note about spending too much time with his boyfriend.  

And just as Rumlow swings the bat into an upright position, ready to unleash hell fire. There’s a scream from outside, and the entire place falls completely silent.

That is until the door is kicked in.

“Oh shit.” That’s all Crossbones can mutter before The Winter Soldiers pins him to the wall and crushes his windpipe between his fingers. The sound is somewhere between a cry and a scream, but Bucky’s face is completely void of emotions as he kills the man, his arm whirring and clicking when he finally releases the corpse.

He then turns to Clint, his pupils are blown with rage and his face is still contorted with upset.

“Hey doll,” Clint splutters, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. And immediately Bucky’s posture falls, his shoulders slump and his expression warps. Before he says anything though, he works at untying Clint’s hands, careful not to bump the broken one too much.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispers morbidly as he busies himself with the ropes.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Clint whispers, his entire being aches and with rescue on the horizon, it’s difficult to keep everything together.

And finally, after what seems like an eternity, Bucky sweeps the smaller man into his arms. Clint’s body is shaking with the cold, and the pain. But he melts into Bucky’s arms, his nostrils flaring and his eyes stinging with tears and he buries his face into his boyfriends chest.

“Jesus Christ, you’re shaking like a shitting dog.” Bucky whispers against Clint’s neck, the heat sends shockwaves through the archer’s body and suddenly his knees give way completely, a pained scream ripping through his throat.

“I got you,” Bucky whispers gently, but there’s definitely an underlying tone there. He’s angry, real furious.

“Buck, please don’t go all crazy when we leave. Let the others sort it out. I need you.” Clint says through his tears.

“I’m not going anywhere. Me and you.”


	6. Winterhawk/ Ace Bucky and Clint

" **Can I maybe have Clint and Bucky being romantically attracted to each other and they also being ace please? I really like your stories, thank you for writing them <3"**

* * *

 

> Tumblr caption: 

Firstly, thank you so much for your lovely compliment on my writing! Thank you for reading my prompt fills and for leaving feedback, I seriously appreciate it!

Secondly, I’m sorry that this took me so long to write. I personally, am not asexual, nor do I personally know anyone who identifies as such, so I wanted to give this story quite a bit of thought before writing it. I tried my hardest to avoid misconceptions, assumptions or cliches, so I strayed a little bit from the original prompt, I hope you don’t mind!

Please do let me know what you think, and if you see anything that needs to be improved or corrected, then please do tell! <

 

Bucky watches the raindrops slowly ascending down the window pane, the storm outside is blowing a gale and the silence of the room is drowned out by the sound of thunder rolling over head. He tucks his legs up against his chest and props his chin on his knees, a sigh falls from his lips.

“Buck?” Clint murmurs from elsewhere in the room.

Clint and Bucky had spent their evening trying to find distraction. Since Clint is still recovering from the fall he had a few weeks ago, and Bucky still isn’t cleared, the entire team got sent off on a mission to Naples four days ago. Unfortunately though, Clint got a message through today stating that Steve and Wanda had both been hit, and were both spending some time in hospital before being sent home. This of course turned the pair into anxious messes.

So they had ended up finding distraction with a movie marathon, which ended up lasted nearly six hours before Clint finally fell asleep. Bucky however, wasn’t so lucky, his mind was elsewhere, his body tense and his heart racing.

Clint had just woken up, and from where he was sprawled on the sofa, he could see Bucky sat in front of the panel windows, watching the storm.

The archer slowly claws himself up before making his way across the room, Bucky’s dog tags jingling against his bare chest as he moves.

“How long you been sat here?” He asks the sniper gently.

“Dunno.” Bucky says honestly.

Clint sighs woefully before crouching down and wrapping his arms around the bigger man, his head resting between Bucky’s shoulder blades and his chest pressed to Bucky’s back.

“Hey, do you remember the first night we did this? The first night that we stayed up marathoning films?” Clint’s voice sent tremors down Bucky’s spine as the man’s warm breath grazed against his thin shirt.

“Yeah.” There’s a small smile pulling at the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “Steve, Nat and Tony were all out on a mission. You chose to ignore how jumpy and brooding I was, and tried to take my mind off of things by introducing me to Lord of the rings.”

Clint smiled against his partners back, a gentle heat settling in his chest signifying his fondness.

“That was a good night. The others came back at 5am, and we were still sat there.” Clint says gently.

Bucky begins to shift, he unloops the other man’s arms from around his middle, unfolds his legs, and turns so that he’s facing the archer.

“I haven’t looked back since that night.” Bucky says carefully, his eyes finding Clint’s. ”You know, I never imagined that I would end up with you.”

“Oh, thanks.” Clint says through a laugh that punctures the mellow atmosphere.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean,” Bucky reaches out, his flesh hand finding the dog tags hanging around Clint’s neck. “I thought that you would get freaked out if I told you that sex isn’t something I’m interested in, I thought that you would laugh.”

Clint’s face has fallen serious and his gaze holds on Bucky’s darkening expression. He reaches up to curl his hand around Bucky’s, his eyes still firmly fixed on the other man’s face.

“But as it turns out, we’re so perfectly matched that it’s actually kind of hilarious.”

And when Bucky moves to meet Clint’s eyes, there’s tears rolling down the inclines of his cheeks. Clint pouts sympathetically and moves his other hand to Bucky’s face, he gently swipes his thumb across Bucky’s skin to catch the droplets. And then he closes some of the space between them, their foreheads softly bump each other and then the archer slowly works to uncurl Bucky’s hand from the dog tags.

“Buck, you okay?” Once he’s untangled the snipers hand, he moves to press Bucky’s hand against his chest so that the other man can feel Clint’s steady heartbeat. This is an intimate and important gesture the two share, it’s something they do to comfort each other, to keep one another grounded.

“I just… All those years ago, when it was just me and Steve. I never imagined that I would find someone like me, I spent most of my life in denial, I was convinced that my asexuality wasn’t valid, that I was a freak.” A crack of lightning splitting across the sky briefly illuminates the two men. It’s at this point that Clint notices how teary eyed Bucky really is. “And then I met you, and everything changed. For the first time in my life, I realised that I wasn’t truly alone. You helped me come to terms with myself. I always knew I was asexual, but I never really understood what that meant. There weren’t labels back then like there are now, you allowed me to progress and move past any doubts I had.”

“Buck.” Clint whispers weakly, his hand gently caressing the snipers cheek. “You’ve helped me too. I’d never met anybody else who was like me, I’d spoken to you know, people on forums and stuff, but actually loving someone was never something that crossed my mind. And then I met you.”

“We’re a pair of fucking saps, you know that, Barton?” Bucky’s laugh is weak and soft, but the tears have stopped flowing and his focus is on the rhythmic thumps of Clint’s heart under his flesh hand.

“Yeah, we’re saps, but we’re alone, so it’s fine.” Clint laughs before placing a feathery kiss on Bucky’s lips.

Once he’s sure that his dark spell has passed, Bucky carefully shakes Clint’s hand off of his and then moves it from the archer’s chest, to his face. He takes this time to appreciate the soft curve of Clint’s smile, the way in which his eyes are squinted slightly with a post sleep haze, the slight flush sat on his bruised cheek, and the fond expression painted onto his features.

“I love you.” Bucky says over the thunder rumbling through the room.

Clint’s smile widens, his eyes glimmering with mischief.

“I love you too, B,” he says before placing a brief but tender kiss on Bucky’s lips.

Then Bucky pulls Clint into his lap, his arms winding around the smaller man’s middle and his chin propping itself in the crook of the archers neck. Clint sighs contently and leans back against Bucky’s shoulder, his eyes fall closed and his mouth remains curved into a smile.


	7. Winterhawk/ Wintersoldier Clint

**"WinterSoliderClint! Buck and Steve went down together and thawed together (Hydra fucked with Bucky and changed him when he was first kidnapped)"**

* * *

 

“We get in, get the infinity stone, and get out.” Steve’s voice is unwavering and stern, his expression is unreadable.

“There’s three levels, from the heat signatures being given off, I believe that the stone is being kept on level two.” Tony swipes his hand across the virtual screen before it flashes up on the wall of the quinjet. “It’s heavily guarded, Rumlow and some of our friends from A.I.M are there, but nothing we haven’t come across before.”

“Steve, if you and Sam can get us in, and get us time. Me, Bucky and Pietro will take them.” Natasha flicks on her widow bites, the sleeves of her suit illuminating with the pulse. “Wanda, Tony. You two work on getting that stone out of there as quickly as possible.”

“Since when did you become Captain?” Bucky chuckles lowly as he does his final checks.

“I didn’t, I just enjoy stealing Steve’s thunder.” Natasha smirks. She moves across the jet and goes to pull open her equipment draw, faltering when she sees Clint’s name scrawled on the box above hers, she grimaces and swiftly picks out her guns before promptly closing the draw.

“So, what’s the plans for tonight? Pizza? Indian? Chinese?” Sam shouts from the cockpit.

“I was thinking Mexican, actually.” Tony says promptly, he makes rubbing gestures at his stomach before licking his lips. “And a movie marathon of some kind, maybe Shrek.”

“Tony.” Natasha flicks her hair away from her collar before sending the billionaire a questioning glance. “How many times have we watched Shrek now?”

“I don’t care, it’s amazing,” he says bluntly, and if the others could see his face under the plate, they would notice his offended expression.

“I like Shrek.” Wanda chips in, her features soft and fond. From beside her Pietro rolls his eyes and gives her a pointed glare.

“Buck, what do you think?” Steve asks, his gaze has fallen upon the other man only to notice the sad smile pulling at his lips.

“I urm, I actually won’t be able to make it tonight guys-“

“What!? It’s team movie night! You can’t not come, it’s against the law. What’s more important than the movie night!?” Tony concretes his outrage by flicking up his face plate and giving the sniper his best ‘menacing’ look.

“I actually told Kate that I’d go hang with her tonight, she doesn’t like being on her own.” Bucky says quietly, his head dropping and his eyes fixing themselves on his shoes.

The quinjet falls silent, the only sound being the gentle rumble of the engines.

“How’s she doing?” Natasha asks, her tone softened and her expression sympathetic.

“Yeah, she’s okay. You know Kate, she’s always been a tough one.” Bucky rocks on his heels before glancing up at his teammates. “But she misses him. She won’t openly admit it, but she really does. So does Lucky though, he spends more time moping than I do.”

Steve sighs and grasps Bucky’s shoulder, a grounding gesture signifying their strength as a pair.

“We all miss him, Buck.”

The sniper huffs and cocks his head to look at his friend.

“I know.”

“Guys, we’re here.” Sam says gently from the cockpit. He flicks a few switches before allowing Friday to take control. He comes away from his seat and begins pulling at the pack straps sitting on his shoulders, making sure everything is in place.

“You ready?” Steve asks Bucky quietly, his hand tensing on the other man’s shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be.”

And everything goes according to plan. Steve and Sam storm the doors, their entrance causing enough of a distraction to allow Bucky, Natasha and Pietro to infiltrate, their presence going unnoticed. Then Tony and Wanda march right through the main doors, Steve and Sam tailing them.

The team split up. Sam and Steve working to clear the upper level, meanwhile Bucky, Nat and Pietro work at clearing the security build up on the second level, this in turn causes enough chaos to allow Tony and Wanda to slip into the vault, and everything is going so perfectly.

Until it’s not.

“I’m honestly surprised, they didn’t even put up that much of a fight.” Natasha exclaims as her, Bucky, Pietro, Tony and Wanda move back to the first level, the infinity stone safe with Wanda. And Steve and Sam are there, waiting for the rest of the team.

“From what redwing discovered, the rest of the goons are moving up from the lower level. We’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re neck deep in Hydra scum, so I suggest we get out of here.” Sam flicks at the panels on his wrist, beckoning redwing.

And their great escape is only seconds away from being a success, until a single arrow stops all of them in their tracks.

Stood in the doorway is a single figure, he’s carrying a pretty powerful recurve bow, and his three quivers tell the team that he means business.

The six stand, rigid and unmoving as they watch the approaching man. The lower half of his face is concealed by a black neck scarf, there’s a hood casting dark shadows across his features. And his once uncovered arm is donning a massive Hydra tattoo and a mish mash of dark scars.

“ ** _Дайте мне камень.”_** (Give me the stone.)

Natasha’s expression hardens, she takes a few steps forward, her gun braced at her side.

“ ** _Вы не получаете камень. Поэтому я предлагаю вам двигаться, или быть перемещены.”_** (You’re not getting the stone. So I suggest you move, or be moved.)

The other man stops mid stride, his head cocks and his eyes darken beneath the shadows falling across his face.

“ ** _Хорошо, ад будет приветствовать ваше присутствие, вдовой.”_**

(Fine, hell will welcome your presence, Widow.)

Bucky’s Russian isn’t great, but he knows a threat when he hears one. The sniper steps forward, a menacing expression sewn onto his features, his mouth set in a thin, hard line; his gaze firmly settled on the Hydra agent.

The other man reaches up, his gloved hand pulling down the hood and then moving to remove the scarf concealing his mouth. And in this gesture, it’s clear that he wasn’t expecting as much of a fight as he’s about to get.

But once that scarf is pulled away, all of the fight that Bucky had, falls away. His limbs turn cold and limp, a pit swirls in his stomach.

“Clint?” he rasps.

The archer’s face stays stern, his features unwavering and his dark eyes unmoved. There’s scars descending down either side of his face, neck, and ears. His sandy blonde hair cropped and short.

“Who the hell is, Clint?” And his voice is rugged and gravelly, the tone dark and descending. And with a slight whirring sound, his left hand clenches into a fist, his brows furrowing into a frown.

He’s not Clint anymore.


	8. Winterhawk/ Clint infiltrating Hydra.

**"Hi (: Maybe Clint infiltrating Hydra, so the first time he sees Bucky it's him being wiped or something? (Helping Bucky escape would be awesome too, but that'd be too long, I guess xD)"**

* * *

 

“Infiltrate Hydra, they said. It’ll be easy, they said.” Clint murmurs bitterly as he tries to squeeze the remainder of his body through the tiny vent shaft.

He awkwardly manoeuvres himself so that his legs are hanging over the edge of the next drop in the vents. He then gracefully twists his body in one swift motion so that he’s lying face down against the slope, and slowly, using the friction from the rubber panels on his gloves, and his feet fixed either side of the shaft, he shimmies himself down.

“And of course Natasha and Bobbi are both unavailable, I call bullshit. They just don’t trust me and Nat working together, not after Budapest anyways.” Clint stops his actions, peering over his shoulder to see how far he’s got. “And Bobbi? Well, they seem to think that we’re just going to ‘rekindle’ whatever we had. Clearly, Shield don’t know me very well at all, there’s an exact reason Bobbi broke it off, and it rhymes with clay.”

The archer moves fast, his legs taking the majority of the strain. And eventually, after a few minutes’ worth of awkwardly shuffling and shimmying, his feet hit the bottom.

And once he’s managed to turn himself around so that his body is facing the right direction, he sees the multitude of grates spread across this particular stretch of shaft. There’s ominous voices too, distant and low, but obviously American.

Clint frowns, he even turns his hearing aids up to make sure that he’s hearing things right. Why on earth would there be American’s here? He’s in the middle of Siberia for god sake. He carefully pulls himself to the first grate, making sure that his movements don’t initiate any creaks or groans within the vents.

And despite being the world’s greatest marksman, he can’t see shit. There’s some weird looking equipment, and an empty chamber. The concrete is dark with water, and there’s obviously some kind of chair. But his angle is compromised, there’s a pillar standing between him and the voices. So he moves on, slowly creeping towards the next grate about five meters ahead.

However, between the first and the second grate, the American voices stop, replaced by low Russian voices, and what they’re saying, sounds somewhat like a melody or a script, so much so that Clint has to pause just to take in what he’s hearing.

And almost the second that he reaches the second grate, there’s a horrific and agonising scream, it’s so piercing that Clint’s hearing aids screech in response. He winces before reaching up to turn them down. Someone is getting seriously fucked up down there, and considering that five minutes ago he was hearing American’s, Clint realises that he needs to change his plans and get down onto that floor now. The documents that Fury wants, can wait. There could be some allies in here.

He peers through the grate, he still can’t see much beyond the pillar. He spots two men stood a foot or so away from the empty chamber, but they’re facing the direction that the screams are emitting from, this give’s Clint an advantage.

He shifts, peering around the rest of the room, but thankfully it appears that everyone is beyond the pillar, meaning Clint has the perfect cover.

“Sorry, Fury,” he says with a smirk. His hand slides down the length of his body before he reaches the quiver strapped against his thigh. He gently unclips the cap, and peers over his shoulder as best he can. He quickly spots the red tipped arrow, it’s a fairly new addition to his quiver, a grappling arrow, one that Tony Stark made. Clint’s not usually one to accept prototypes designed by anyone other than himself, but Coulson had given him that one pointed glare that the archer swears he reserves for Clint.

He brings the arrow back up his body and drops it at his side. He hooks his fingers under the grate and carefully removes it, gently putting it down on the other side of the shaft. He inhales and closes his eyes, readying himself. He grasps at the arrow and rams it into the ceiling of the vent with as much force as he can muster, he grimaces at the loud _clang_ that reverberates through the room. But thankfully for Clint, the screaming cuts out the reverberations, although it doesn’t bring the archer any comfort; the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end with the agonising screeches.

He uses this cover to work quickly. He pulls out around 30 meters of cord from the arrow and clips it onto the carabiner at waist. He then crouches above the entrance rubbing his hands together with the adrenaline of what he’s about to do. Luckily, Clint brought his thickest pair of gloves with rubber grips, these will help him get a better grasp on the cord as he descends.

He braces himself before looping some of the cord through his legs, and beginning with his descent. It’s not that far, twenty meters, maybe less. Clint smirks slightly at the all too familiar feeling, he used to do this every night when he was with the circus. Part of his act was climbing to the highest part of the tent, firing arrows through trapeze artists, and hoops and shit, and then he would have to get back down. The first time that he did it, he got the most insane rope burns ever and had to be benched for three weeks.

But the cheers and whoops of the circus, are a distant memory against the screaming echoing through the room. Clint’s eyes are set on the two men that he can see, they certainly haven’t noticed his appearance, they’re actually busy smiling sadistically at whatever is happening behind Clint’s cover.

His feet hit the ground with a low thud, it’s not enough to draw any attention. In one swift movement he untangles his feet and checks the room again. The walls are grimy yellows and greys, the room is heavy with the smell of burning flesh and chemicals, and it seems that the only entrance is a huge set of mechanical steel doors.

Clint makes a mental note to make sure he uses the rope to get out again, he doesn’t want to go beyond those doors.

The archer moves quickly to press his back to the concrete pillar, he reaches up and pulls off his bow that had been sat over his chest and across his back.

The screaming has stopped, and is replaced by those low and intimidating murmurs. So Clint carefully creeps around to the other side of the pillar, but he halts abruptly, his blood running cold and his thought process stopping.

On the previously unseen side of the room, there’s a group of hydra agents, all pretty heavily guarded and weaponised up to their ears. There’s a General stood at the front, a red book donned with a black star sat in one of his hands. And in front of them, strapped to a chair with heavy metal binding, is none other than The Winter Soldier.

Clint knows of him, in the world of assassins, you’re forever in competition with others. And Clint can remember an incident about four years ago, a few months before he brought in Natasha. He had been on a mission in Prague, and the target was in his sights, and Clint was ready to claim his kill. But then someone shot straight through him, a bullet ripping through his bicep and hitting the target directly in the centre of his forehead. Clint had hissed in pain before looking over his shoulder, and stood only a few feet away, was The Winter Soldier. He had been wearing his entire get up, goggles and all.

“You fucking shot me, are you fucking crazy?” Clint had hissed whilst binding his wound and giving the other man a very sharp and pointed glare.

“Насколько я genuinley наслаждался видом со спины здесь. Ты слишком долго . Не хотел тебя обидеть , хотя, у вас есть красивое лицо .” The other man had said lowly, and from the way that his eyebrows had arched, Clint swore that he was smiling.

Only months later, when Clint struggled to repeat the verse back to Natasha, did he learn what had been said.

And it amused Tasha endlessly.

**_As much as I genuinely enjoyed the view from back here. You were taking too long. Didn’t mean to hurt you though, you’ve got a pretty face._ **

But the man in front of him now, is a stark contrast to the one he encountered all those years ago. He’s only wearing some thin black boxer shorts, but they’re soaked and he’s shaking all over, his entire body jerking and tremoring. His long black hair is dripping wet, and a complete mess. Some strands are tucked behind his ears, and other bits are falling across his face, or interrupting his parting. His breathing is laboured and fast, his scarred chest falling rapidly.

The General says something, and The Winter Soldier’s eyes widen as he screams hoarsely. His entire body strains against the bindings, and he shakes his head violently, as if trying to empty his mind.

His scream is cut short, his throat running dry and cutting him off.

“I think that’s enough,” a man off to the General’s left says. His English is tinted with an accent, so it’s obvious it’s not his native language.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” The General states, his English even worse than the others. “Leave him here for now, I’ll send some techs to come and clean him up later.”

The General turns and Clint flattens himself to the wall, his heart thumping in his chest with the fear of being seen. But they all leave without incident, no-one even noticing the cord he left hanging from the ceiling, luckily they all seem too enveloped in a conversation.

And once Clint’s sure they’re gone, and that there’s no cameras, he creeps forward.

The soldier is slumped in the chair, his head slung low between his shoulders and his body still shivering.

“What are you doing here?” The soldier huffs, his voice is scratchy and rough, but there’s an unmistakable accent; it’s definitely not Russian either.

“I’m not even sure myself.” Clint ponders, he swallows deeply before stepping away from his cover.

The soldier looks up through his hair, his shoulders and head still slumped, but his unwavering gaze stuck firmly on Clint. And then there’s a very small, in fact tiny smile on his lips.

“Kрасивое лицо.” (Pretty face)

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m assuming that you remember me.” Clint says carefully, his arms reaching up to slide his bow back across his body. He doesn’t think he’s gonna need it.

“Pretty face, that’s what I said,” the man moves to jolt some hair out of his eyes. “There’s not a lot of things I remember, but funnily enough, I do remember you. Prague, 2004. I shot you in the arm by accident.”

Clint chuckles slightly, he’s now stood directly in front of the other man, only a few feet between them.

“I got ripped to shreds by my handlers for that mishap, and I still get ripped to shreds by my best friend because _The_ Winter Soldier, told me I had a pretty face.”

The other man laughs very lowly, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

“Strange, when I do remember things, it’s usually a blur. But for someone so insignificant, your face is always the most clear, that memory always bringing clarity.”

Clint folds his arms across his chest, a mock glare on his features.

“You know Winter, calling someone insignificant, is frowned upon by most people. Especially where I come from.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m James, at least that’s what I think my name is. The name comes and goes, some days I remember it, other days I don’t.” James creases his face in frustration.

“What do they call you?” Clint’s voice is soft, his body softening with sympathy.

“The Asset. I’m nothing to them, only a weapon.” James pouts and shrugs off a bout of shivers cursing down his body. “What’s your name, your real name? I know you as Hawkeye, that’s the name associated with your pretty face.” James smirks at Clint, his eyes still visibly riddled with fear and stress, but there’s a glimmer of mischief right at the edge of his eyes.

“No offense James, but you’re not really in the position to be flirting with me.” Clint mirrors the smirk, his eyebrows arching with disapproval. “Clint Barton. I probably shouldn’t be telling you, of all people that, but I seem to find myself drawn to lonely assassins.”

“Well Clint Barton, I’m sorry I shot you.”

Clint moves to retrieve his knife from his belt, he approaches the other man with a smile, and James visibly tenses, his whole body going rigid and his eyes darkening.

“Well James, shall we get you out of here?”


	9. Misc/ Clint's an ass.

" **ok so imagine a fic based off that comic that is clint trolling steve by giving bucky a list of dumb things steve has done. :P"**

The comic they're referring to [>>](http://omg-hawkeye.tumblr.com/post/144374561374/omg-22)

* * *

 

Steve was just getting some shut eye, it’s rare that the guy ever finds himself relaxed and somewhere quiet enough that he can catch a nap, but today is different. Everyone is off doing their own thing, at the moment the tower’s presence consists of Steve, Sam, Vision, Clint and Bucky. And thankfully for Steve, none of them are on the communal floor, which means he’s able to make himself at home on the sofas.

Well, it was fine, quiet and peaceful, until the towers loudest residents found their way onto the floor. _Can a guy ever catch a break?_

“Steven Rogers, you’re so deep in shit creek, that you’re gonna need more than just a serum to help you push your way out.”

Oh god, Bucky’s pissed off.

“What’s wrong, Buck? I’m trying to nap.”

“Plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead, Stevie.” Bucky drawls as he stomps across the room. Steve sighs through his exasperation before he props himself up slightly, his eyes barely staying open.

Upon reaching the other man, Bucky stands towering over him, a few pieces of crumpled paper wedged into his hand.

“What you got there?” Steve asks through a yawn.

“Oops.” He hears Clint say from elsewhere in the room. The captain rolls his eyes before hooking his arms beneath his head to try and relax again.

“What did you do, Barton?” Steve tries to say it with conviction, but his voice is flat with sleep.

“ _I’ve personally witnessed Cap jump out of a plane, minus a parachute, at least twelve times. However, if you include the additional fourteen times that Nat has witnessed it, then it’s actually happened twenty-six times, to my knowledge.”_

And suddenly Steve is awake, his eyes opening to Bucky’s unwavering and stern gaze.

“Clint Barton, you’re a fucking menace and I hate you.” Steve groans as he rolls onto his side to face the sofa, trying to avoid the onslaught.

“Firstly, you need to watch your language and tone of voice, you’re already in enough trouble gramps.” Clint giggles as he props himself against the back of the sofa. “Secondly, as Bucky’s boyfriend, it’s my duty to be honest with him. And finally, you’ve had this coming pal.”

Steve rolls back slightly to look up at the archer whose smile is more or less splitting his cheeks.

“Asshole.”

“ _There has been at least four occasions where Cap has used his own body to shield others, this is quite frankly, stupid. The dude has a shield made from Vibranium, use it.”_ Bucky continues, his tone mocking and annoyed.

“Okay, but let me justify that-“

“There’s no justifying that, Steve. Ah, try and justify this one.” Bucky shifts on his feet, rolling his neck in the process.

“ _When Steve was training Wanda, he let her throw him over seventy meters so that she could adapt herself to a combat situation. However, he allowed her to do this at least forty times, and then convinced her to do it another ten times, despite her progress_.”

“Okay, but that was for training! That was necessary!” Steve begins to pull himself up off the sofa; he chooses to ignore Clint’s cackles.

“Steve, fifty times though! C’mon!” Bucky huffs as he throws his arms above his head in an exaggerated gesture.

“Ooh, read number 46 on page 9. That’s my favourite.” Steve sends Clint a menacing glare when the archer pipes up with his suggestion.

Bucky flips through the pages before skim reading and then sighing heavily, his eyes flicker up to Steve as he sends him as what can only be described as, his Winter Soldier stare.

“ _There was this one time where he tried to be all heroic and dramatic, so he told us he would meet us at the extraction point. What he actually meant was I’ll leap from a nearby building, onto the quinjet, fail, fall from around thirty meters, and break a few ribs and an arm. But hey ho, at least he could pursue a career in dramatic arts if he ever found himself with a life changing injury.”_

Steve huffed and cocked his eyebrow before looking up at Clint.

“Really, Barton?”

“Well C’mon Cap, you are a bit of a drama queen. From your seemingly rehearsed speeches, to your ‘gotta put her in the water, despite there being other ways around this dilemma.’ You’ve got the dramatic thing down to a T.”

“Oh, what about this.” Bucky jabs at a caption further down the page. “ _He’s gone through at least six motorbikes. Between hurling himself over rotating ‘copter blades, and single handedly trying to bring down a corrupt government, his bike count is increasing at a rather ridiculous rate_.”

Steve doesn’t even try anymore, he just grimaces and ducks his head between his shoulders.

“Aw, it’s alright Cap.” Clint sniggers as he reaches down to press a hand to Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve, are you trying to give me a heart attack, or do you genuinely have a death wish?” Bucky’s voice is slightly louder than normal and his face is beginning to turn red.

“Buck, honestly, I’m fine. It’s nothi-“

“There was this one time, where he tried to infiltrate a Hydra base on his own, and even turned off his coms.” Clint says a little too casually for Steve’s liking.

“Barton, I’m going to kill yo-“

“Steve! Why!? Why would you do that!?” Bucky throws the papers up in the air, his entire frame is tense and his hands are clenched into fists.

“Well, it seems Steve isn’t the only dramatic one here.” Clint cackles lowly.

“You.” Bucky points his finger accusingly at Clint. “Are not one to talk, Mr. I throw myself off of buildings every other week, usually because there was a cute dog involved or something. You are just as dramatic as me. So hush up!”

Clint looks somewhat like a scolded dog, he pokes his tongue out and blows a raspberry before crossing his arms across his chest in a grumpy manner.

“Well, Stark was having a party and I didn’t wanna ruin everyone’s night.” Steve says honestly, his face burning with a blush.

“You suck Steve, you suck so much. How have you ended up making me feel bad? You’re such a reckless asshole!”

“There was also this time th-“

“Shut up Clint, you’re a pain in my ass.” Steve hisses before Clint can continue.


	10. Winterhawk/Brainwashed Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for Typos, I'll go back over this later.

**"If you're still taking winterhawk prompts. Clint gets brainwashed again, this time Bucky is around. (lay on the angst, so long as it has a happy ending cause I'm weak lol)"**

* * *

 

Clint’s vision was slathered in bright washes of blue and white, and despite how much he tried to fight the invasive colours, he had well and truly lost all control of his mind. And now he can only watch from behind the screen as _he_ slaughters innocent people.

He screams relentlessly when he feels his fingers curling around the bow and an arrow being notched, its path aimed directly at Wanda who is completely clueless of Clint’s situation.

See, twenty minutes earlier, Clint had been absolutely normal but then he was jumped by Hydra and before he knew it there was a needle slipping into his neck, and it must have been filled with some of the energy from Loki’s staff or something like that, he honestly doesn’t know, because one minute he was himself, and the next he was right back under that blue screen.

And now here he is, arrow notched and ready.

“No, please.” Clint screams as he tries desperately to control his limbs, but his fingers merely twitch under the arrow. And then it’s gone, and he feels his entire chest tighten when the arrow embeds itself in Wanda’s shoulder and she lets out a high pitched shrill.

Her eyes quickly move to Clint and she stares at him, looks at him like he’s a monster. He feels his feet move, and he approaches her with haste.

“Clint’s compromised! I need backup now!” Wanda shouts into her earpiece. She staggers to a stand and carefully flicks her fingers so that her hands begin to glow red with energy.

“Barton?!” Cap’s voice flows through Clint’s aids, and he sounds so sorry. But Clint reaches up and rips them out, the world plunged into silence. Fucking hell, there’s next to no chance of redemption now. How are the others going to talk him down when he can’t even hear them?

Clint watches from behind the silk screen of blue. Wanda is shouting something at Clint, one hand is pressed firmly against her shoulder and the other is extended out in his direction, red is licking at her fingertips in a threat. But Clint can’t hear her, not that it would matter anyway. So he doesn’t halt, no matter how much the real Clint screams from behind the blue, he just doesn’t stop.

And then Tony and Steve are there, Steve is sliding his arm around Wanda’s middle, he’s saying something to her but Maximoff’s focus is still on Clint. Tony now has his repulsors aimed at Clint too, and only now does he stop, obviously sizing the others up.

Steve shouts something, but it comes through muffled and inaudible. So Clint springs into action, Tony fires his repulsors but the archer slides across the floor completely dodging the beams. Wanda takes this as an opportunity to try and stop him, but he’s trained with Wanda and he knows her moves. He quickly dives out of the way of the red, and he’s moving again, moving to miss the shots and the masses of energy being sent his way.

And in the brief second it takes Tony to move his aim, Clint is on him, he swings one arm around the metal plates at Tony’s neck and then uses his entire body to mass to pull the man backwards with him. And whilst Tony is staggering, Clint reaches into his quiver and pulls out his black out arrow. He uses this head to screw up electronics, you know, get into the wiring and stuff. So he plunges it as far behind Tony’s neck plates as he can, and he watches as sparks fly and Tony falls forward. Clint jumps away and he barely has time to filter what’s happening before something slams into his middle and sends him flying across the room.

He grunts in pain, the pain resonating through his entire being. And then he peers up from the crouched position he has assumed. And there’s Bucky.

Barnes has his metal arm folded across his body as he crouches into an attack position. Clint watches the assassin’s mouth moving, he’s obviously talking to Steve because from behind him Cap peels Tony off the ground and cocks both the billionaire, and Wanda on his hips.

Clint’s eyes are firmly fixed on Bucky, and from behind the turquoise Clint desperately tries to push memories of Bucky to the forefront of his mind. The feathery kisses, the nights spent pulling each other from the depths of darkness, the bond the two had formed, the friendship, and the love.

But it doesn’t work, his head cocks slightly but a sadistic smirk settles itself on the archer’s lips.

“C-L-I-N-T.” Bucky’s lips clearly read, he says the words slowly and carefully, his eyes never moving from Clint’s. “Please, don’t do this.”

Clint can only whimper from behind the screen, his being trembling with fear. This is the one thing he never wanted to happen, he never wanted Bucky to see him this way. But they had made a pact, they had made it late one night whilst lying in a post-sex haze. They promised one another that if either of them ever fell back into the wrong hands, that they would be the ones to get each other back.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says slowly as he lets a sympathetic expression fall across his face. Clint takes this as a sign of weakness and springs forward on his heels, his arms braced tightly against his sides as he does.

He’s sparred with Bucky so much, and Clint is not really much of a match for the super soldier, but apparently he’s going to try his luck anyways.

Bucky leaps out to meet Clint, he aims a firm punch at the side of Clint’s head. The archer responds by blocking Bucky’s punch with his forearm and springing his other arm out in an attempt to wind Bucky, this of course fails because the assassins flesh hand reaches out and catches his fist. Clint feels the pain of his fingers being crushed under the metal, but he kicks out hooking his foot behind Bucky’s knee and pulling the other man onto the ground. Bucky grunts but dodges a hefty punch that Clint tries to land on his face, Bucky sends Clint recoiling after he places a heavy punch in the centre of the archers stomach. Clint coughs a few times struggling to catch his breath, and it only takes a few seconds of distraction before Bucky is on him.

Barnes’ metal arm is looped around Clint’s neck and one of his legs is cocked around Clint’s shin disabling his movement. Barton can feel the soft tickle of Bucky’s breath against his neck, the gentle rumble falling onto deaf ears.

He’s talking, and when Natasha walks into Clint’s line of site, he knows what Bucky had been saying. The archer realises what is about to happen and struggles against Bucky’s chokehold, his body writhing and wriggling as he tries to free himself.

Natasha is approaching fast, her expression completely unreadable. And then she’s there, just a foot or so away.

And then darkness.

* * *

Clint wakes up with a deep ache sending tremors of pain through his entire body. He jolts with the discomfort but it stopped short when he arms don’t move. He opens his eyes and blinks past the haze to notice the restraints fixed at his wrists; he’s on a hospital bed.

“What the-“

“Hey, don’t move around too much.”

Clint rolls his head across the pillows and looks to his left. And sat there looking like a kicked puppy, is Bucky.

“B? What the hell happened?”

Bucky rolls his head in a nervous manner, his shoulders slumping as a heavy sigh cascades from his lips.

“You urm, well. It happened again.”

A shockwave of ice falls across Clint’s bones. He doesn’t need to ask what _it_ is.

“Fucking hell. How many this time?”

Bucky’s head snaps up, their eyes meeting.

“None. You shot Wanda, and you fucked up Tony’s new suit. But you didn’t kill anyone.”

Clint’s strong demeanour crumbles away at hearing that, tears fill his eyes as he begins to remember being hidden behind the blue silk screen.

“I could have done something, I watched it all happen-“

“No, Clint!” Bucky springs up, his body tensing and something similar to a growl ripping out of his throat. “This was out of your control, don’t start with that bullshit. This was Hydra, this was not you, and this could never be you.”

Bucky reaches out his hand to cup the archers face, Clint leans into the touch and gasps slightly as tears fall from his lashes, he squeezes his eyes shut and lets a sob rack his body.

Bucky’s brows furrow together into an angry expression, something on par with his Winter Soldier glare. He hated seeing Clint like this, vulnerable, open, and self-loathing.

He makes quick work of Clint’s restraints and quickly consumes Clint in a hug, lifting the archer away from the bed and sitting patiently as the other man wraps himself around Bucky.

Barnes clings onto his trembling frame, his shirt becoming wet with tears.

“Hey, they’re gone, and as long as I’m here they’ll never lay another finger on you.” Bucky says softly against the crook of Clint’s neck.

“Thank you.” Clint whimpers into the material of Bucky’s shirt.


	11. Winterhawk/Smarty pants Clint, and angry Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for typos guys, enjoy.

**"Where someone (avenger/agent/whoever) is surprised by how smart/tactical Clint is, and Bucky 'overreacting"**

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“At the end of the day, I just don’t think Hawkeye deserves to be here.” The agent extends his palms in a gesture to The Avengers.

Tony, Steve, Sam and Wanda flick their gaze to Clint, who has his arms pinned to his chest and a pout sat on his lips.

“I think that he’s a bit too aged for this group, yes he has a good set of eyes, but no, he doesn’t bring any real intelligence or brute strength to the team. I think he’d be better off at the side-lines.” The agent is only a junior, clearly not realising how out of his depth he currently is. The managing director of the F.B.I simply watches from across the room with an exasperated expression as his employee tries to convince his colleague of his perception.

“Who do you think is gonna hand him his ass first, Romanoff, Maximoff or Barnes?” Tony whispers across to Sam.

“I am.” Clint pipes up as he moves away from the group.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Pietro exclaims as he chuckles lowly and pins his hands to his hips.

Clint leaves his team to cross the room, the junior was stood only a few meters away, too enveloped in his conversation to realise how much attention The Avengers were really paying.

“Hey kid.” Clint says carefully. The younger man spins around, his cheeks flushing so red that pigments of purple clip at his ears.

“Oh, urm, hi. I urm… I didn’t realise you guys were listening.” The agent drops his eyes to the ground and rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, his companion smirks and cocks his hands onto his hips.

“So, I bet you didn’t realise that I actually make the majority of my own trick arrows? You know, I put together all the prototypes, my own blood and tears and all that.”

“No, I didn’t-“

“Also, I assist in strategic intervention, mission tactics, and extraction of hostages, prisoners of war, and hostiles.”

The agent’s eyes widen as he realises his mistake.

“Look at how surprised he is.” Steve huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest and watches in amusement.

“I actually know quite a bit about chemical warfare too. In my time I’ve extracted and helped to disable around forty biological weapons, weapons that could have wiped your face off earth.”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” the agent starts, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. And Clint looks like he’s ready to cut the kid loose, but Bucky on the other hand, is not so happy to let him get away.

“That’s it.” Barnes huffs.

“This is going to prove interesting.” Bruce grimaces as he wipes his glasses with the edge of his shirt.

“ ** _Там идет мои мальчики . Будьте готовы к свидетелем убийства_**.” (There goes my boys. Get ready to witness a murder.) Natasha hisses sadistically, her crimson lips are poised into a smirk as she watches Bucky fall into place at Clint’s side.

“There was actually this time where we all got captured by Hydra, they used a sonic blast to disable us and knock us into a state of unconsciousness.” Bucky starts. Clint sighs slightly before ducking his head between his shoulders and blushing slightly. “Clint’s obviously got hearing aids, so he just takes those bad boys out, and continues with the mission. He single handedly wiped out seventy Hydra agents, and twenty two A.I.M agents with only twenty seven arrows, three bullets, and all whilst being hearing impaired.”

The agent looks utterly disgraced and embarrassed, his companion however, looks on the verge of hysterics.

“Another time, Tony was down and out, and Hydra tried to hack our systems and let themselves into the tower. Then this guy.” Bucky lands a hand on Clint’s shoulder, there’s a fond smile on his lips and Clint peers up through his fringe, his expression shy and flattered. “Suddenly becomes a genius. He manages to hold off an entire cyber attack by enhancing the A.I’s security protocols. This is the same A.I. Literally created by none other than Tony Stark.”

“Look, I’m honestly feeling like a complete foo-“

“So next time you wanna insult our resident hawk, stick to the fact that he’s a clumsy oaf, don’t ever underestimate how tactical and smart this man is. You could literally move to the very edge of the earth and he would still be able to find you, and when he does he will feed you the shittest coffee you’ve ever had, and talk your ear off.”

Clint reaches out to place a gentle slap against Bucky’s flesh arm, a mock pout settled onto his features.

“And if he can’t be bothered to find you.” Bucky leans into the Agent’s space. “Me or the widow will.”


	12. Winterhawk/Vampire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short.  
> 

**"Winterhawk Vampire au?"**  

* * *

 

“What’s stopping you?” Steve asks from somewhere behind Bucky. He sounds desperate and exasperated, his breathing laboured and ragged.

Bucky’s eyes are fixed on the other vampire standing only a few feet away. Both he and Steve know that Bucky is capable of tearing this guy apart, he definitely has the strength, but there’s something about the other man that has him rooted to the spot.

He watches the sandy blonde man carefully, he looks skittish and timid, his muscles tense with the possible outcome of this situation.

“I know him.” Bucky whispers, and in the back of his head there are strands of memories falling to the forefront of his mind. Stolen kisses and empty promises.

“What?” Steve breathes, his eyes searching the newcomer in a bid for recognition.

 

_“Buck, we can’t do this.” Clint says carefully, his eyes twitching with nerves as he watches the forest beyond them._

_“Says who?” Bucky whispers lowly. His stained lips find Clint’s neck as he places feathery kisses along the scarred skin._

_“If they find out, if the others from the coven find out about us. We’re dead, exiled, gone.” Clint’s nerves are melting away though, because his voice is thick with pleasure at the sensation of Bucky’s lips against the sensitive skin. “Please, Buck. I’m scared.”_

_Bucky pauses his actions, he moves up from Clint’s neck and moves across the smaller man’s jawline_

_“Clint,” he says gently between kisses. “I don’t give two shits about what will happen if they found out-“_

_“I know but, what would we do.”_

_Bucky stops his motions and gazes up to find Clint’s stormy eyes._

_“We’ll run.”_

 

“Clint?” Bucky gasps, his voice thick with emotion and his heart thumping rapidly against his sternum.

“Bucky?” The other man barely says. Neither of the two can quite comprehend one another and Bucky’s name sounds foreign on Clint’s tongue.

The two had changed a lot since their last meeting. It had been hundreds of years since their failed escape plan. Hundreds of years since their separation. Neither had aged, but both had changed in physical appearance.

“Wait, that’s _the_ Clint?” Steve asks in awe.

Bucky doesn’t respond. His attention focused entirely on Clint. To this day, he’s still the only person Bucky has ever loved.


	13. Winterhawk/King Bucky

" **King Bucky/Servant Clint au."**

* * *

 

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Do you know what’ll happen if this gets out?” Steve tapers around the room nervously dragging his hands down his face and grimacing at the situation his brother has got himself into.

“Well it won’t, simple as that. And even if it does. I don’t care.” Bucky looks up at his brother from where he’s sat on the bed. “We’ve been talking about equality amongst classes, genders, races and sexualities for years. This could actually benefit that cause greatly.”

Steve sighs and plonks himself down on the bed beside Bucky.

“I know but Bucky, not everyone thinks like us,” he peers across at his brother with anxiety sprawled across his features. “You could get taken off the throne for something like this.”

“So, let me get this straight. It’s okay for you and Tony to be together, but it’s not okay that I have someone?”

“No, Buck! That’s not the point and you know that.” Steve drops his head between his shoulders and draws out a groan. “Tony is your advisor, he’s got a wealthy background and his reputation is only getting better. Clint, is a servant.”

Bucky bolts up off of the bed his cheeks flushing red with anger and his brows knitting into a tight frown.

“Fuck you, Steve. Clint might just be a servant, but I love him. I really do.”

And with that Bucky storms from the room ignoring Steve’s desperate pleas. Beyond the door he’s greeted by Clint, who is waiting patiently with his arms folded across his middle and a solemn expression on his face.

“How’d it go?” Clint asks quietly as his eyes flicker the hallway as if waiting for the onslaught.

“Well, he threw out the ‘Tony has a good rep’ card.”

Clint sighs and drops his stance. His hands fall loose at his sides and his head drops to the look at the floor. Bucky can’t help but wince at the sight of his lover in such a state at the idea of losing him.

“Hey.” Bucky wraps his arms around Clint’s timid frame and pulls him in close cocking his head around into the nape of Clint’s neck. “It’ll work out,” he says gently.

“I know, it’s just… Sometimes I wish my circumstances were different. Half the time I can’t even comprehend how you love me, I’m literally bottom of the bucket trash-“

“Clint!” Bucky pulls back from the hug and grips Clint’s shoulders firmly making direct eye contact with the other man. “Stop, please. Please just stop talking like that. I love you for you, I wouldn’t change you for anything. Sure, the situation kinda sucks, but love will always find a way.”

“Wow, that’s a cliché if I’ve ever heard one.” Clint chuckles, but there’s a fond smile pulling at the edge of lips. “I love you James Barnes, you’re no Shakespeare. But I love you anyways.”


	14. General/Clint's a fluffball.

**I'm a sucker for Clint bringing in Hydra assassins to SHIELD like it's no big deal, and everyone trying to figure out how the hell he does it. Clint's got no idea, he just opens his mouth and they sort of follow him back out of pity. Not sure if you can do anything with that, but I do enjoy what you've written.**

* * *

 

“He’s done what?!” Tony yells as his attention falls away from the project currently at hand.

“Well sir.” Friday begins. “Agent Barton has brought back another reformed Hydra agent. Said agent is currently being interrogated and checked by Romanoff and Rhodes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Tony mutters as he leaves his work to enter the elevator. “He’s impossible, that’s two in three months. He needs to stop bringing strays back to my tower.”

The billionaire leans back against the panels of the lift and rubs at the bridge of his nose in a frustrated manner.

“Friday, how many reformed agents has Barton brought back with him?”

“To the tower specifically? Or how many has he brought home with him since starting with Shield?”

“The second one.”

“Well, Mr Stark. When he was working for Shield Agent Barton successfully picked up, saved, and/or recruited at least 60 agents, all of which were from different agencies and branches. Most notably of course Miss Romanoff.”

Tony does have to admit, Clint has a talent. For some reason the man has an innate sense of compassion and sympathy. He’s always ‘accidentally’ picking up stray assassins, it’s actually pretty ridiculous. The man either comes home with a new dog he found by some dumpster, or an assassin he recovered in some deep op in St Petersburg, there’s literally no inbetween.

The elevator doors ping open and Tony reluctantly pulls himself into the common room, a debate on the edge of his lips.

The minute that Clint spots Tony from his place on the sofa, he chomps up the last bite of his pizza and stands up his hands springing into a gesture of surrender.

“Okay, but before you get mad. I couldn’t just leave her there.” Clint states through a mouthful of food.

“You said that last time, Clint.” Tony groans as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

“To be fair, you did say that last time.” Pietro pipes up from his space on the sofa.

“Okay, you.” Clint jabs a finger at Pietro. “Need to shud’ up because you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. I’m not sure if you remember, but you were one of my strays!”

“Was not.” Pietro bites back, a mock frown playing on his features.

“He has a point, P.” Wanda says quietly, a small smile on her face. “He was the one that convinced us to come back here.”

“Traitor.” Pietro mumbles before turning his attention to the T.V.

“Look, Tony. She’s only a kid, she was under one of those training regimes, like the ones in the Red Room’s. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

The billionaire huffs and looks Clint up and down with a pessimistic look on his face.

“Barton, did she give you that black eye?”

The archer rolls his eyes before knocking his hands onto his hips and pouting.

“Maybe, but that’s irrelevant-“

“True, anyone can kick Barton’s ass. Even my gran coulda’ knocked his socks off.” Bucky drawls casually from the stools at the breakfast bar. This earns him a frown from the archer but Bucky merely huffs out a laugh before looking back to his book.

“Anyway, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” Clint’s voice goes up an octave as he sends an accusing glare Bucky’s way. “She just needs to be shown a little compassion.”

“Okay, so I’m going to pipe up here and say that Clint has a point.” Sam starts. His gaze had previously been on the television, but now he’s peering up from the sofa and watching the two engage in conversation. “I don’t recall a single time where someone has been slaughtered by an agent Clint has brought back.”

“I don’t know.” Tony mumbles as he thinks back to the occasions where he honestly thought Natasha was going to kill him. “How do you even get them to come back, Barton?”

Clint’s shoulders relax a little as he comes closer to the billionaire to scoop up the coffee pot and clasp it tightly in his bandaged hands.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs whilst staring down into the pot like it holds the answers. “They tend to just like, beat me up, hear me out, take pity, and then follow me anyways.”

Bucky chuckles before looking back up at the pair.

“Sounds like you, Clint.”

The archer flicks up his middle finger and looks back to Tony.

“Pleeeease can she stay? I promise she won’t be a problem.”

“For fuck sake.” Tony grunts. He’s lost again.


	15. General/Clint whoops ass

**"If you are willing to take another prompt: Clint getting kidnapped and brainwashed. He is then able to take down the whole team by surprise and they are all confused by how CLINT took them down all down with ease. How this is resolved is up to you. If you can maybe throw in some Winterhawk?"**

* * *

 

Anyways, this one is long and probably has a shit tonne of typos, but whatever. I hope you enjoy and thanks for the prompt!

Okay, so this is actually something I thought about ages ago. So because I can’t be bothered to write up an entire like 19 page fic or something. Let’s say that prior to being brainwashed, Clint had an argument with Cap over Bucky, this in turn leads to him taking a temporary leave from The Avengers. However, during this leave Clint is captured by Hydra, brainwashed and turned into a Hydra goon. The Avengers don’t realise what has happened but they infiltrate the same base where Clint is at, and stumble across him.

This may or may not have a happy ending.

Let’s go.

“Cap, there’s a pair coming in hot from the second level.” Sam explains as he stares down at the screen lighting up his wrist.

Steve listens carefully before spinning on his heels to evaluate the positions of his teammates in correlation to the doors.

“Right, Sam you good to come back over here? And Wanda, I want you over here too.” Steve states as he cocks his shield against his hip and braces for the duo coming up from the lower level. They had managed to clear the majority of the base, but they were still yet to stumble across Rumlow or Sin, so they were wary of individuals.

“What about us?” Bucky asks from his nesting position up in the beams.

Steve peers up to where he knows Natasha and Bucky are waiting, they’re propped up there in case of an ambush.

“Stay there for now. Tony, how’s the outside looking?”

Tony, Rhodey, and Vision were beyond the heavy steel doors fighting off any agents pouring out from secret exits.

“Yeah, we’re good. They’re sort of coming out in small groups now, but there’s still quite a few.” There’s rushing sounds seeping through beyond Tony’s voice and Steve recognises it as wind, Tony must be busy.

“Cap!” Sam yells as the doors from level two slide open and the falcon dives onto the ground.

Wanda is at Steve’s side her hands extended and braced with red energy, she looks determined, her face etched into a serious frown.

“Nat, if this goes south you and Buck get down here as soon as you can.” Steve says in anticipation.

“Copy that.”

The doors slither open and the team brace themselves, each weaponised in their own way.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite people.” Rumlow’s voice sends fury careering through Steve’s being, his entire body tenses as he watches crossbones enter the room. “I’ve missed you guys,” he chuckles sadistically.

“Rumlow, give us the biological weapon now, and no-one gets hurt.” Cap glares over his shield, a new kind of intensity sitting in his irises.

But Brock just starts laughing, almost hysterically. The room falls silent to his laughter and The Avengers just watch as the man almost keels over.

“You think it’s a vile or potion or something?” Rumlow giggles as he looks back to the team. “Say, Wilson, how’s that other heat signature doing?”

Steve’s hairs stand on end as he flickers his eyes to Sam who looks just as bewildered.

“It’s a person. The weapon is a person.” Sam utters, his voice singed with anger.

There’s a slow clap that falls from behind Brock, it bounces off the walls of the room and cascades through the emptiness.

“We’re coming down.” Natasha says firmly and before Steve can protest his eyes fall across the new figure creeping up from behind Crossbones.

“It can’t be.” Wanda whispers, her hands drop slightly as she gawps at the newcomer.

Stood only a few feet away is Clint.

Except it’s not him.

He’s wearing something similar to his normal suit, but it’s entirely black and is definitely fitted with tougher materials and armour. His bow is slung across his shoulder and he’s got three quivers. One is fixed to his back, the other to his upper thigh, and there’s one on the shin of his other leg.

He’s got a scarf pulled up over his mouth but it’s falling away and revealing a menacing smirk. There’s dark bags and scars slung under his fully dilated eyes, and there’s a multitude of scars running up the sides of his face.

But most hauntingly, is his skin. It’s so white, almost translucent, but his veins aren’t blue, they’re a silvery-grey colour.

“Clint?” Wanda splutters, her eyes shrouded with tears.

The archer just struts further forward, the smirk widening and a laugh playing on his lips.

“Yep?” His voice is different, it’s mocking and menacing but it’s a lot thicker and deeper than normal, there’s more gravel to it.

“What have you done?” Steve hisses at Crossbones as he boils over with rage.

“Well, we’ve improved him.” Rumlow flickers his eyes to Wanda whose eyes are now lit up red, her veins glowing with the emotions coursing through her blood. “You took something from us, so now we’ll take something from you.”

“You’re a disgusting little man.” Steve bites as he carefully watches the two. Clint is pacing, his black eyes watching the team with an uneasy smirk falling across his features. “Clint, you don’t have to do this.”

“Clint?” Bucky crackles into Steve’s ear, his voice somewhere between confusion and fear.

“He’s compromised.” Wanda says bluntly, her hair is beginning to billow behind her as the red ascends up her body.

“What do you mean compromised?” Natasha spits.

“He’s not Clint.” Steve says calmly. He’s now making direct eye contact with the archer stood only a couple of feet away.

“You let this happen.” Clint says flatly, his face distorting into a snarl as he points an accusing glare at the captain. “You were supposed to be my family.”

Steve winces as he thinks back to their argument, he never meant to be so harsh. He’d found out that Clint and Bucky had been a thing, but then Bucky had broken it off after he figured he’d end up hurting Clint. This of course prompted Clint to try and win Bucky back, but in the end it just started a huge fight, which Steve got involved in.

The captain’s eyes drop to ground as he thinks about the last words he’d said to the archer.

“Fine, leave then. Because that’s what you do best, Clint. When the going gets tough, you run into the shadows with your tail between your legs.”

Clint had looked like a kicked puppy, his shoulders had slumped very slightly and Steve hadn’t missed the tears that threatened the man’s vision. He had inhaled sharply and went to say something but the words caught and Clint just left without a word.

That was three and a half months ago. That was the last time Steve had seen him.

“Turns out that family is overrated.” Clint presses. And then he suddenly springs forward launching himself at Sam.

Wanda turns her attention to the archer and reluctantly braces her energy against Clint’s form. But the archer only snarls as the blast of red sends him keeling backwards. Steve moves fast, throwing his shield at the smaller man but Clint slides between the three and whips out a dagger, plunging it into the small of Wanda’s back.

Sam reacts promptly and lashes out with his wings twisting and throwing a punch that sends Clint stumbling.

“Wanda’s down!” Steve yells into his earpiece as he runs for the twin.

Despite her injury, Wanda turns to face Clint and staggers forward sending a surge of red in his direction. Clint dances away from the energy before ducking away from Sam’s punches and splaying out his leg to knock Wilson on his ass.

Steve runs at Clint bracing his shield to his chest and readying himself for impact. But clearly they were underestimating their hawk the entire time. Clint grabs the edge of the shield and gracefully flips himself over cap using his body mass to bring Steve back with him and send him falling to the ground.

“What the fuck, since when can Barton do that!?” Sam gawps as he twists to swing some more punches.

Clint pulls his bow off of his shoulder and twists through Sam’s punches before hooking the string against Wilson’s neck and pulling back on the handle as to choke the other man.

Steve watches in horror as Sam struggles to grab at the tiny wire pressed to his throat.

“Sam!” Wanda screeches as she throws herself at Clint and thumps a hand to the man’s side. Clint cries out as he gets sent flying backwards losing his grip on the bow and in turn releasing Sam who falls to the floor spluttering and coughing.

“What’s going on?! We’re nearly down there?” Natasha pipes up.

Steve is kneeled down beside Sam pressing a gentle hand to the man’s heaving chest. Wanda is also kneeled down but she’s losing colour and there’s blood running down her legs and pooling at her feet. The captain looks across the room at Clint who is gripping his middle and wincing as he attempts to stand up.

“Well, Barton knows how to kick ass.”

“You’re not fighting Clint Barton right now, you’re fighting Hawkeye. You lot seem to forget that he was an assassin and is trained in hand to hand combat.” Natasha says almost smugly, she’s out of breath so she’s obviously moving fast. “Not to mention that he used to be an acrobat.”

Steve watches as Clint moves towards the trio with a new found energy.

“Clint, please stop.”

“That’s no use buddy. His brain’s been frazzled, a bit like your pal, Bucky.” Rumlow sniggers from where he’s leant against the wall enjoying the show.

Clint lunges forward, a growl ripping out of his throat as he engages Cap. Steve dodges some punches before landing a solid one on Clint’s chest, he hears a cracking and the archer falls back a bit, the breath being torn out of his body. But Clint still doesn’t give up, he bounces back and lashes out. He’s got some kind of studded knuckle duster on because when Clint land’s a punch on Cap’s face, Steve see’s stars.

“Guys you seriously need to hurry up and get here, Clint is actually winning.” Sam gasps from his place on the floor.

“Almost there.” Bucky growls. His voice is deep and dark, he’s obviously in combat mode and Steve is actually kind of worried for Clint.

Steve lands on the floor with a loud thump and before he knows what’s happening Clint is on his chest with his knees braced on either one of Steve’s shoulders and a knife pressed to his throat drawing a thin line of blood. Steve gasps and tries to push against Clint’s weight, but the man is surprisingly heavy.

“Today isn’t your lucky day, soldier.” Clint says flatly. His eyes are completely void of emotion and nothing expressive falls across his features. Steve gasps and gags against the feeling of the steel to his throat.

“Not… As unlucky as you.” Steve whimpers as Natasha stabs her widow bite in Clint’s neck. The archer howls and Steve sees his pupils reduce in size before he slumps and falls into unconsciousness at Steve’s side.


	16. Winterhawk/ Fluff, so much fluff.

**"Possible writing prompt? Clint has grown up rough and has a tendency to curl into the tiniest little ball in bed. Bucky discovers this and tries to unravel the purple spot in the corner of the bed and shenanigans/something occurs (positive/negative responses idk)"**

* * *

 

“You okay there, Clint?” Bucky chuckles softly as he watches the archer curl himself into an impossibly tight ball.

“Yup.” Clint sighs through the tiredness plaguing his entire being.

Bucky raises an eyebrow from where he’s stood pulling off his shirt. It’s only when Clint’s dog tags fall against his bare skin that he shakes his gaze and returns to taking off his clothes.

Bucky has been sleeping with Clint for around three months now but he’s never stayed the whole night, both of the snipers being a bit too skittish and worried about what the night will bring. But tonight, Clint had asked Bucky to stay and it had taken the other man completely off guard.

Bucky falls into bed with an exhausted sigh on his lips and a deep ache in his bones. Beside him, Clint doesn’t move from where he’s curled up, in fact, he doesn’t even make a sound. The assassin watches Clint through the night and his mind wanders, he starts to think about what Clint had told him when the two had first started this weird relationship. The archer was too used to sleeping in a defensive position, either from the fear of his dad creeping in late at night and seeking catharsis in the form of violence, or from sleeping rough on the streets with his older brother by his side.

Bucky sympathises and he can’t help the dull ache that settles in his chest from the idea of Clint being forced to feel that way.

“Clint,” he whispers softly, he reaches out and traces his flesh hand down the man’s arched spine. The archer doesn’t respond and just sort of huffs and bows his head further into the ball.

Bucky sighs and moves closer. He carefully laces his arms around the smaller man and pulls him back against his chest, the assassin nuzzles his head into the nape of Clint’s neck and places a gentle kiss against the heated skin.

Clint inhales sharply and slowly uncurls his legs to lace them through Bucky’s.

“You’re safe. I’ve got your back.” Bucky whispers against the scarred skin behind Clint’s ears.

“Okay.” Clint says weakly before he slowly slips out of his previous position and melts into Bucky’s arms his body falling slack and all tension seeping away.

Bucky carefully reaches up and unclips Clint’s hearing aids whilst placing feathery kisses along the top of Clint’s spine and the base of his neck.

“Thank you.” Clint says quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you should totally go and send me a shit load of prompts on my tumblr (Icantseemtomiss) because I'm running low of them!!


	17. Winterhawk/Sentence Prompt

**"I'm just as fucked up as you are."**

* * *

 

Clint sits propped against the bed, his eyes stare off into space, his gaze completely unwavering. His features are tense and his expression is void of emotion, he doesn’t even flinch when his bloods are done.

Bucky sighs when he peers through the window and sees the state of the archer.

“Hey,” he moves to greet the nurse exiting the room. “Don’t send anyone else in here for a while, okay?”

The timid brunette nods and clasps the clipboard tighter to her chest before departing in a hurry.

Bucky combs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath in preparation for the onslaught.

Clint doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at Bucky when he enters the room. He just stays sat in the same rigid position, his mind somewhere else.

“Hey doll.” Bucky says gently as he plonks himself down on the edge of the bed and watches the other man carefully. Clint’s shoulders shift slightly and his eyes begin to water.

“It happened again.” The archer says almost silently. His voice is wobbly and his body begins to tremble. Bucky sighs and reaches around to pull Clint into a hug, to which he promptly starts to cry into Bucky’s shoulder his hand’s fisting in the snipers shirt and pulling him impossibly close.

“I can’t believe I let this happen-“

“No, Clint. Don’t do that.” Bucky can feel his muscles tense with the thought of what Clint’s going through, anger cursing through his veins. “This wasn’t you.”

“I’m so fucked up.” Clint laughs bitterly as he pushes Bucky away and moves to wipe at the tears falling from his bloodshot eyes and tracking down the inclines of his cheek.

“Pfft, don’t kid yourself sweetheart.” Bucky works to smirk convincingly, knowing it will reassure the archer. “I’m just as fucked up as you are.”

Clint watches Bucky’s face with a careful face, and for just a split second, there’s a small smile on his damp lips.

“A match made in heaven.” Clint laughs as his voice cracks and falls hoarse.

“More like hell.” Bucky says softly before reaching up to clasp his hand against Clint’s wet cheek. The archer moves to nuzzle further into Bucky’s grasp and closes his eyes before placing a feathery kiss against the calloused flesh hand.


	18. Winterhawkish/Sentence Prompt

**"You've never seen The Lion King!?"**

* * *

 

Steve startles when he hears the scream from the common room, he moves swiftly and leaps out of the elevator before sprinting down the hallway and into the living area. He expects to see Bucky pinning Sam to the wall, or Wanda encasing the assassin in her energy. But what he does not expect, is Clint pacing around the room with his head in his hands and an agitated growl falling from his lips.

“Talk about an overreaction, Barton. I thought I was the drama queen.” Tony groans as he rolls his eyes and props his legs up against the sofa, his head falling back against the arm.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks through his nerves. He’s agitated and angsty because he’s still waiting for Bucky to flip out again, it’s been months since his last incident, but he always seems on edge.

Wanda cocks her head to look at Steve before sighing heavily and moving her eyeline back to Bucky who is sat on one of the sofas looking somewhat like a deer caught in headlights.

“Well-“She starts, but Clint abruptly moves into Steve’s space and raises his arms into the air in a questioning manner.

“Bucky, hasn’t seen the lion king,” he says accusingly.

Steve’s shoulders slump and he can’t help the frown that falls onto his features. All this, because Bucky hasn’t seen a goddamned kids film?!

“That’s why you’re angry, seriously Clint?”

“To be fair.” Scott says through a mouthful of popcorn. He tucks his phone back into his pocket and looks up at the captain with a sympathetic expression. “The Lion King is a cinematic masterpiece.”

Clint throws out his arm to point at Scott and moves his head rapidly between the two men.

“See! He knows what I’m talking about!”

“It’s just a film about lions.” Bucky winces as he takes his chance to pipe up.

Clint gasps in an exaggerated manner and slaps his hands to his face as he glares at Bucky through the gawp.

“How dare you!”

“Oh god, you’ve done it now.” Tony mumbles as he drags his hands down his face in a frustrated manner.

“Our hawk does make a valid point.” Thor practically yells from beside Scott. “The Lion King is a very intriguing film that teaches love, strength, fear, and hope.”

Steve takes this opportunity to frown at the Asgardian, because even he’s seen the film before Bucky.

“Oh C’mon, Clint. I’ve only been grounded for a few months, and most of that time has been spent obliterating your high score on the range.” Bucky drawls with a mischievous smirk written on his face. And it’s the first time Steve has seen that look since the 40’s.

“You’re mean to me Bucky Barnes.” Clint hisses as he points another sharp glare at the sniper. And Steve doesn’t miss the look the two exchange, the way Clint’s cheeks flush red when Bucky raises his eyebrows, his eyes darkening.

Oh.


	19. Winterhawk/ Christmas!

**"seasonally-inappropriate-winterhawk prompt: it's christmas, and clint and bucky are decorating the avengers tower using their specialized and deadly skill sets--aka, bucky is throwing shit at the walls while clint pins it there with arrows. cue team reactions. maybe some mistletoe trick arrows?"**

* * *

 

“What the hell is that?”

The rest of the team look up at Sam who is stood closest to the doors of the elevator, he’s staring up at a stocking hung in the highest corner of the lift. It’s quite literally a sock, a sock that has been dyed red, and whoever is responsible, has also sewn jingle bells along the top of said sock.

Tony huffs and frowns at the object, if he wasn’t so exhausted from the mission he’d probably make Steve give him a piggyback so that he could reach up and get it down, but he is exhausted so it’s out of the question.

“It looks like a stocking, or at least an attempt at one.” Scott chuckles as he runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to neaten it up a little.

“I don’t like Christmas very much.” Wanda murmurs as she fiddles with the energy looping through her fingers. She had never been entirely keen on it, but at least she’d always had Pietro by her side. But now she doesn’t even have him.

“Well, thankfully Christmas is closer to being over. No more countdowns or tinsel or trees-“ Natasha is cut off as the elevator doors to the communal floor ping open.

There’s a collective gasp and none of the team even attempt to leave the confined space. The entirety of the communal floor is covered in miscellaneous Christmas decorations. Spanning from paper chains hanging from the high ceilings, to the massive and overly decked out tree in the centre of the room.

“How the heck did they even get up there?” Sam is the first to step out, his eyes firmly fixed on the lengths of paper chains hanging from the ceiling.

Natasha follows closely behind, making sure to dig the heels of her boots into the fake snow spread all over the floor.

“Honestly though, what the hell has happened here?” Tony says absently, his full attention on the sheer state of the communal area.

“You really want the answer?” Natasha grunts, her eyes fixed firmly on an arrow embedded in the ends of one of the paper chains. “I think this could be Clint’s handy work.”

Steve chuckles slightly and steps out beside Natasha, his eyes scanning the room.

“Surely he couldn’t have done this on his own? The man has four broken ribs and a fractured ankle.”

“I never said he did it on his own.” Natasha whispers as she gestures towards a mistletoe hung above one of the doorways, it’s pinned in place by a dagger.

“Everyone else was out with us.” Tony states as he limps through the room, Steve at his side to stop him from slipping on the copious amounts of fake snow.

“It’s pretty neat though.” Scott giggles as he reaches up to run his hands along the tinsel lining the walls.

“Surprise!”

Almost every team member splits themselves into some kind of defensive pose, but they’re not under attack, in fact the arrow that pierces through the air doesn’t release some kind of toxic gas or trigger an explosion. Instead, the tip falls open and fake snow pours all over the heads of the less than impressed avengers.

“Clint Barton, wait till I get my hands on you.” Wanda hisses as she tries to shake off the specs of white that is still parading over her.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” Clint giggles from somewhere in the room.

“You’re dead to me, Clint.” Natasha says flatly as she carefully brushes the snow from her fiery hair, her expression darkening.

“You’re all a bunch of humbugs.” Bucky’s distant voice mocks.

“Fucking hell, of course Barnes is involved.” Tony grimaces and elbows Steve in his slightly tender ribs. “Your pal and Barton are like the duo from hell.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve groans as he reaches up to catch a handful of the snow that has collected on his head.

Another whizzing sound cuts through the air and it’s followed by hysterical laughter. Steve peaks up and the arrow that has landed in the ceiling above him falls open to reveal a small string of mistletoe.

“Now kiss.” Bucky prompts. They still can’t locate the pair, but Tony has gone from grimacing to donning a rather bright shade of red.

“You’re menaces.” The billionaire moans as he ducks his head between his shoulders to avoid showing the blush creeping up his face.

“Merry Christmas.” Bucky drawls, his accent prominent.

“Are you saying that to them, or me?” Clint chuckles, his voice thickening.

“Well would’ya look at that. We’re standing right under mistletoe, when did that happen?” Bucky says smoothly, his voice even.

“For fuck sake you two, stop flirting and come and clean up this mess.” Sam groans as he rolls back on his heels to shake off whatever remains of the snow.

“Sam, is cockblocking your profession? Or are you just that big of an asshole?” Clint asks flatly as a thudding sound bounces through the room he soon walks into view with Bucky at his side, his metal arm thrown across the archers shoulder. Both of them are wearing pretty smug expressions, but beyond that their eyes flicker to meet, a fondness growing behind their irises.

“I actually hate you two, I didn’t sign up to be bullied.” Sam glares as he walks to approach the pair.

“Hey.” Bucky extends his flesh hand in an invite for Sam to stop. “No beating up Clint yet, he’s still hurt. You guys can save the bullying for when he’s better.”

Natasha folds her arms across her chest and moves to lean against the wall, a stocking catching on her jacket in the process.

“Dibs.”

“Despite how much I hate Christmas, you’ve not done a bad job.” Wanda walks around the room to admire the decorations.

“We got bored making out and decided to do something more productive.” Bucky chuckles as the rest of the team groan and grimace.


	20. De-aged Clint/ Sort of winterhawk.

**Can I request a more angsty thing? Deagged Clint who reveals his not so pleasant past to the group because of how he reacts especially to Tony who drinks infront of him and to Steve who is to big. Just the team trying to deal with this and stuff maybe it ends with mild Winterhawk?**

* * *

 

“Tony, please go over this with me one more time.” Bruce is exasperated as he pulls off his glasses, and rubs at the indents left by them on the bridge of his nose. “What happened?”

“Well.” The billionaire picks up his glass of whisky and takes a sharp swig before swishing the ice around in the glass in a distracted manner. “One minute he was a big Clint, and now he’s a small Clint.”

Bruce doesn’t have time to react to Tony’s sarcasm before Bucky has closed the space between himself and the billionaire, and is more or less nose to nose with the smaller man.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Stark. What the fuck did you do!?”

Clint, who is approximately 11, is sat on a chair in the centre of the room. His much larger blue eyes widening as he watches the confrontation.

“Look, Barnes. I don’t know what happened, it was literally so quick.” Tony says bitterly as he uses his spare hand to push at Bucky’s chest, only prompting the soldier further.

“That’s enough.” Steve announces as he places a firm hand on either man’s chest and pushes the two apart. “We’re not gonna get anywhere if we continue like this.”

Bucky huffs and turns away from the other men, his eyes briefly falling across Clint before he slouches against the wall, cupping his face in his hands.

“You need to control your guard dog.” Tony spits as he takes another swig, this time partly finishing the drink.

“That’s enough, Tony.” Steve rips the glass from his boyfriend’s hand and bangs it onto the counter, the action making a sharp clanging sound.

“You always side with him.” Tony says lowly, his chocolate eyes finding Steve’s and scrutinising him.

“That’s not fair.” Steve says quietly as he steps closer to the billionaire, who in turn steps back.

“Life isn’t fair.” Tony barks, his shoulders shaking and his body flailing as he throws himself onto one of the chairs.

“Tony, calm down.” Natasha says carefully as she approaches the man, her shoulders squaring like she’s ready for an argument.

“No. You guys are acting like this is all my fault. I honestly don’t know what happened.”

“Well, it’s not exactly our fault.” Bucky whispers, his stormy eyes fixed on Tony.

This of course prompts another round of conflict. Tony leaps from the chair, his expression darkening as he crosses the room to reach the super solider. Steve intercepts, his arm thumping against Tony’s chest as he begins to push him back.

“Tony, stand down.” Natasha demands as she places a hand on Stark’s shoulder.

“I’ll stand down once the terminator gets off my back,” he hisses as he pulls at Steve’s solid arm.

“Tony, please.” Steve practically begs as he tries to calm down his boyfriend. “You need to chill out.”

Tony takes this opportunity to shove Steve hard in the chest, clearly the captain is shocked because he stumbles a little, his eyes widening.

“You all need to stop it.”

All four members of the team look to find the source of the voice. Wanda is crouched beside a tearful Clint, her arm tucked over his shoulders pulling him into a half hug.

Immediately the team soften. Seeing a young and emotional Clint is enough to make them realise exactly why they’re here in the first place.

The young archer looks up between Tony and Steve, and then to the more or less empty glass on the counter top. His crystal eyes are wide and bright with emotion, his lashes sticking together with previously cried tears.

“Please don’t fight.” He says carefully. His voice is shallow and deep for a kid of his age. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Clint sounds odd. His words trip over one another, clearly a side effect of almost a decade spent without hearing aids. But he looks different too, his skinny form is shaky and small. He’s practically tucked into himself and he rarely makes direct eye contact.

“Hey.” Steve crouches down beside the kid, his hands gently finding themselves on Clint’s knees. “No-one is going to be hurting anyone. Okay?”

“Are you sure?” Clint whispers, peering up from behind his bright blonde fringe.

“I promise.”

The archer falters at that, his shoulders tensing and his fists clenching. His brows come together to form a dark frown.

“You can’t make that promise. My old man made that promise every other day. But he still broke it.”

Steve pauses, his mind filtering what had just been said.

“Well, I’m not your old man.” Steve says very carefully, his words slow and gentle.

Clint looks Steve up and down, his eyes following the soldier from his toes to his eyes. And then he tilts his head to look at Tony, scrutinising him in the same way he had done the captain.

“No, you’re not him. But I don’t know either of you.” Clint’s eyes once again find the whisky. “But you’re drinking, and you’re arguing. That usually says something.”

The room has gone quiet. Tony watches the archer, a frown forming on his face. For someone so young, Clint is so adult and aware, his eyes showing wisdom beyond his years.

The billionaire moves past Natasha, taking a crouching position beside Steve.

“You know what? My dad was pretty rubbish too. He’d promise not to drink anymore, and he still would.” Tony decides to take the adult approach to this, Clint obviously isn’t an ordinary kid.

“Tony-“

“Wait,” the billionaire says gently to his boyfriend.

Clint’s interest seems peaked. He reaches up with a bruised hand and wipes at his damp eyes, slowly shrugging off Wanda’s arm as he does.

“What did you do? I mean, how did you deal with him?” Clint’s voice is soft and confident, but a little shaky.

“I just hid from him. I worked on lots of projects, to ignore what was happening at home.”

Clint peers at Tony with glittering eyes, his breathing rapid.

“I couldn’t hide from him. I tried, but he just ended up hurting my mum.” Clint drops his eyes downwards, his hands curling into each other, his fidgeting portraying how nervous he is about the subject. “I stood up to him once.”

“I think that’s enough.” Bucky speaks up, his voice is wavering and cracking.

“Let him talk.” Steve says over his shoulder.

Bucky shakes his head and approaches the pair, but Natasha reaches out, pressing a firm palm against the assassin’s chest. The two exchange a telling glance, Bucky sighing in defeat.

“Carry on.” Wanda suggests, her hand grasping Clint’s shoulder gently.

“He hit us a lot, you know. But urm.” Clint cuts himself off, a small frown pulling at his brows. “I blacked out. And when I woke up, I couldn’t hear anymore.”

A shiver curses through Steve’s body, his muscles rippling with rage. Clint rarely spoke about his disability, it’s not something he was very open about. But he had told the team that it was due to an accident in the circus, something along the lines of an act gone wrong. But the truth was far worse than that.

“Hey, kid.” Clint looks over to Bucky, who is leant against the counter, his face angered. “Steve is a big guy, and Tony does drink. But they’re not him, you’re safe from him. You’re safe here.”

Bucky’s face is soft now, his expression somewhat pained. Clint watches him carefully, he reaches up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, a habit that brings a small laugh out of Steve. So that’s something Clint has always done when he’s feeling awkward.

“How do you know?” Clint’s voice is a little louder than before, his question direct and blunt.

“I just do.” Bucky says quietly.


	21. Winterhawk/Crash landing.

" **Bucky and Clint are on a mission together, when their plane unexpectedly malfunctions/gets hit/w.e you want and they have to crash land in the arctic circle. Bucky will survive being frozen, Clint tho, Clint doesn't have the serum to help with that kind of thing. (Basically an excuse for a cuddling for warmth fic)"**

* * *

 

The cold is what wakes Bucky. He half expects to open his eyes and find himself being pulled out of cryo, his stomach lurching and his mind blank. But instead, he opens his eyes to a surging pain reaching from the base of his neck to the tip of his toes.

He splutters as he feels the cold sat on his chest, his breath more or less freezes and he finds himself tremoring and shaking; Jesus Christ its cold.

The assassin takes some time to assess the situation. What had happened?

Bucky’s legs are pinned under the control console of the quinjet, obviously the impact had crushed the cockpit of the jet, trapping Bucky’s legs in the process. He remembers the engines failing, they had been faulty. The quinjet was recently issued and obviously it hadn’t been tested in severe weather conditions, because the internal wiring has more or less frozen, and it wasn’t long before Bucky and Clint had been falling out of the sky.

_Clint._

The daunting realisation that Bucky isn’t in fact alone, hits him like a tonne of bricks. The worst thing is that he’s not even in the company of Steve, a man with incredible healing abilities. He’s not with Tony either, a genius who owns at least 30 metal suits. He’s with Clint, the member who is most susceptible to injury.

The assassin twists in his chair, trying not to put too much strain on his legs and back. Clint isn’t beside him in the pilot’s seat, where he should be, in fact he’s not even in Bucky’s line of sight.

“Barton!?” Bucky shouts through chattering teeth, the cold catching at the back of his throat and forcing a cough out of him. “Clint!?”

Nothing. The only sound to be heard is the icy wind blowing through a tear in the quinjet’s cabin.

Bucky twists back round in his seat, his eyes surfing the mangled console trapping him. He needs to get out here and find Clint. He wedges his hands underneath the metal, his fingers grappling for a hold. And then, with a reluctant sound on behalf of his metal limb, Bucky begins pushing up against the console, more pains shooting up and down his body.

It’s just luck that Bucky has the metal arm to be honest, because that’s the one that takes all the strain, the plates whirring and readjusting as the dashboard slowly begins to peel away from his middle.

And then he’s free, his body slumping back against the seat with an exasperated sigh falling from his lips.

The assassin takes a moment to do a once over. His legs are numb, and there’s a shallow laceration in his right calf, but it’s nothing he won’t survive.

He pulls himself up out of the chair, his whole body screaming out in protest. The cockpit is beginning to ice up, the freezing wind blowing in tonnes of fresh snow.

“Clint?” Bucky calls weakly as he limps out of the cockpit and into the cabin.

There’s a faint burning smell, and when Bucky peers through the monumental crevice in the side of the jet, he realises that the left wing is entirely gone, the sudden drop in altitude probably forced the damn thing off.

“Buck?” There’s a weak groan from the back of the cabin.

Bucky turns suddenly, his eyes immediately falling across Clint’s body. He doesn’t look great.

“Clint!”

The assassin crosses the space to the archer, his body tremoring simultaneously with the cold, and fear.

Clint is bleeding, he’s got a laceration that reaches up from behind his ear and stops at his parting, and it’s bled a significant amount. Clint’s face is caked in fresh and dry blood alike. The archer is propped against the wall, barely conscious and cradling his left arm, he looks pale and cold, his lips blue and his skin white.

“You okay?” Bucky chatters as he drops down beside the man, his legs crying out in pain.

“M’ really cold.” Clint mumbles, his eyes barely staying open.

Bucky knows hypothermia when he sees it, Clint needs to be warmed up, and ASAP.

“Stay here.”

Clint cocks his head a little and manages to pull open his eyes, a small smile pulling onto his lips.

“Where else m’ I meant to go?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, and if they weren’t in this situation, he’d probably clap Clint round the shoulder and call him a punk, but unfortunately, they are here.

“Natasha’s coming remember.” Clint murmurs as Bucky begins to dig around the cabin, there’s definitely some emergency supplies around. “She’s gonna be here soon…ish.” Clint hiccups, a full body tremor consuming the archer.

“Yeah, they’re probably only an hour or two out by now.” Bucky exclaims, his own hands shaking as he digs through the draws. He’s not cold anymore, the serum is starting to work, his own injuries now feeling more like a dull ache. He’s scared more than anything.

“Buck? Can we get pizza on the way home? And some nice warm coffee too?” Clint groans as he wraps his good arm around his body, his jaw tensing as the cold crawls up his chest.

“Course’ we can, doll.”

It’s not long before Bucky’s found the emergency thermal blankets, the foil sheets, and a few flares. He drags them over to Clint and drops them at the archers feet, contemplating how he’s gonna do this.

“Right, Barton. I’m gonna have to move you around a little, I need to get these blankets over you.”

Clint weakly opens his eyes, his expression dull and tired.

“Careful though, think I’ve got some broken ribs,” he says quietly, his teeth chattering the entire time.

Bucky sighs and reaches down, carefully pulling the smaller man away from the wall. The extent of Clint’s situation is obvious at that point, because even through his suit, Clint’s skin is freezing, his whole body violently shaking against the cold.

Bucky works to pull all three foil blankets around the man, wrapping him up from head to toe, and one of the foil sheets even has a hood that Bucky pulls up tightly over Clint’s head. Then he moves to get the thermal blankets, they’re six huge ones, obviously they’d been packed in with The Avengers in mind.

He wraps Clint up in four of the six blankets, making sure to account for the archer’s feet, ears, and hands. And then he plonks himself down beside the other man, pulling one blanket across his front, and then the remaining one he shares with Clint, wrapping it around them both.

And thankfully, slowly but surely, Clint begins to regain some colour, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. He’s still shaking, and he’s still tense, but his teeth have stopped chattering, which is definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thanks.” Clint murmurs softly, his voice not wavering as much as it had done twenty minutes ago.

“No need to thank me.” Bucky says carefully, hooking his flesh arm around the layers of blanket consuming the other man, and pulling him close.

Clint starts to jostle round a bit, some of the blankets falling down as he does.

“Barton, stop it.” Bucky orders as he tries to grab at the archer.

Clint peers over at Bucky, his crystal blue eyes pulled into a puppy dog expression.

“I wanted a hug,” he says weakly, his expression falling sincere.

Bucky studies the smaller man carefully before gently reaching around and pulling Clint into his lap, the blondes head is pressed in the nook of Bucky’s neck, the soldiers arms braced protectively around Clint’s middle. It’s actually warmer like this, good call on Clint’s behalf, but Bucky knows the motives are a little deeper than just warmth.

He leans across to press a gentle kiss to the pale skin of Clint’s cheeks. The archer hums happily at the contact and wiggles against Bucky to get closer, wincing as his ribs sting.

“We should make this thing official, you know.” Bucky suggests, his tone more emotional than before. The two had been sleeping together for months, something that the other residents of the tower didn’t even suspect. Wanda knew, but that was because she was helping Bucky remove some mental blocks, and she’d accidentally stumbled across some closed memories.

But Bucky felt very strongly for the ferocious little blonde. The relationship the two shared had recently progressed, the assassin found himself waking up in Clint’s bed most mornings, and the nature of said relationship had definitely changed.

It was only two days ago that Clint slipped up. The two had been lying in a lazy post-sex haze, Clint placing feathery kisses across Bucky’s neck and jaw.

“Buck, would you kill me if I said that I’m pretty sweet on you?” The assassin had tensed, his whole body going rigid. Clint had scrambled up, straddling Bucky’s thighs. “I mean, it’s totally cool if you want things to stay the way they are. Nothing has to change.”

Bucky had watched the other man carefully. Clint was good at putting on a mask. His expression was comedic almost, but his eyes were very telling. He was obviously used to rejection, his stormy eyes sad and fearful. So the assassin moved to meet Clint, he curled his arms around the archer and pulled him close.

Bucky had placed gentle kisses on Clint’s collarbone, the sensitive skin behind his scarred ears, and then soft pecks on his lips.

“If it’s any coincidence, I’m pretty sweet on you too, doll.” Bucky had whispered, his warm breath dazing over Clint’s skin and leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

And now here they were, on the brink of some serious shit, but wrapped in each other’s embrace.

“I think you’re right.” Clint whispers, he looks up at Bucky, his eyes glittering fondly. “You’ve turned me into a sap, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckles and leans into the other man, being careful of his injuries.

“Shud’ up.”


	22. Winterhawk/ Cuddly Bucky

**Bucky does this thing whenever he's about to sit down. He grabs and plops Clint into his lap. Clint's already sitting down? Bucky picks Clint up with the metal arm and takes Clint's seat. Clint's cool with it. The first time it happens in front of the team, Tony cackles at it. Nat does her small sweet smile the shows her cold cold heart loving. Bruce just smiles. Thor laughs and continues being Thor. Sam starts spewing his horrible 'alley cat caught the bird' jokes bc Bucky and Sam. But Steve?**

* * *

 

“I’m surprised to see you, Barton. Didn’t think you’d make it.” Tony chuckles as he watches the archer find a place on the sofas.

“Yeah, well I couldn’t miss another movie night. I’ve already earned myself a time out for missing the last three.” Clint winces. He’s too tired for social interaction, and despite it only being 8pm, he desperately wants nothing more than to go to bed.

“Well, it’s compulsory.” Tony states, a scowl firmly placing itself on his face.

“It wasn’t compulsory the six times you didn’t show up.” Bruce says carefully, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, that was different.” Tony moves his glare from Clint, to Banner. “I had a deadline.”

“I have a deadline too.” Clint says through a yawn, his body slumping into one of the arm chairs. “I’ve only got one life, and I intend to spend as much of the time I have left in bed.”

“That’s a bit heavy for 8 O’clock.” Steve throws the archer one of his ‘concerned dad’ expressions. Clint simply rolls his eyes and sinks further into the seat, his eyes closing as his shoulders slump.

“What are we watching first?” Sam sounds tired when he asks, he’s got low expectations it seems.

“Peter Pan.” Tony’s voice is quiet when he says it, clearly it’s not a choice of his own.

“We’re watching Peter Pan?” Steve cautions, his brows furrowing together into a frown.

“Do not insult Peter Pan, it is a wonderful animated adventure conveying love, hope, and bravery.” Thor snaps, his booming voice bringing a wince out of Clint.

“So, now we know why we’re watching Peter Pan.” Tony says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Why are we watching Peter Pan? What did I miss?” Bucky stumbles into the room just as the lights turn off. Nobody replies, instead Thor places a finger against his lip and hisses in protest at Bucky’s arrival.

“Okay, never mind,” the assassin whispers. Across the room Friday is projecting the opening credits and Bucky pauses for a moment to evaluate his options.

Natasha, Steve, and Sam have claimed one sofa, with Natasha sprawled out across the two men, her head on the arm rest and her feet in Steve’s lap. Tony is curled up on one of the armchairs, he isn’t paying much attention to the film already, he’s holding a dimly lit tablet and swiping at it furiously.

Bruce and Wanda are sat on one of the further sofas, Vision is sat on the floor at Wanda’s feet, his head cocked with curiosity as he watches the opening. Thor has hogged an entire sofa to himself, he’s sprawled across it in the most spectacular manner, its a surprise that he can even fit on the damn thing.

And then there’s Clint. Just the sight of the tired archer brings a fond smile to Bucky’s face. The man is slouched in one of the seats, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head slung against the back of the chair, his half lidded eyes heavy with sleep.

There’s no competition really.

Bucky slinks across to the chair where Clint is slouched, and almost immediately the archer perks up at the sight of him, a mischievous smile painting itself onto his face. The two exchange a look, a seal of approval. Clint drops his knees and then smirks up at Bucky, his eyes glimmering even in the dark of the room.

Bucky leans down and curls his metal arm around the smaller man, gently pulling him up and out of the seat. The action catches the attention of the team, and Clint has to drop his head to avoid the eyes that he knows are watching him.

And then Bucky takes a seat, pulling Clint down with him so that the pair are tangled up together. Bucky’s metal arm is laced across Clint’s middle, braced to keep him in place. And Clint is slouched against the other man, his head cocked back against Bucky’s shoulder and his feet hanging over the arm of the chair.

“Hey.” Bucky whispers into Clint’s hair. He takes a moment to lean into the other man, inhaling the coffee and vanilla scent that is just so Clint Barton.

The archer smiles and nuzzles back against Bucky, turning his head slightly so that their faces are only an inch or so away from each other. In turn, Bucky huffs a laugh and buries his face into Clint, his lips ghosting across the skin of Clint’s neck and his nose nuzzling against the archers jaw.

“Hey.” Clint sounds drunk when he speaks, his eyes so heavy with the fondness swelling in the pit of his stomach.

“Are we just going to ignore this?” Tony whispers from across the room, but his voice is cracking and it’s obvious that he’s trying to refrain from laughing. “Please tell me that we’re not going to ignore this.”

Bucky pulls away from Clint and sends the billionaire a pointed glare, one that he knows will be felt, even through the layers of darkness.

But Tony’s mouth is pulled into a manic grin, his cheeks have flushed red and his eyes are wide with potential. This is clearly going to become the butt of a lot of jokes for the other man.

Elsewhere, Natasha is watching the two carefully. There’s a gentle smile beginning to form on her lips, because it’s nice to see the two like this, domestic and comfortable, and so obviously gone for one another. She, and pretty much every other person in the tower have known that Bucky and Clint have been sleeping together for at least three months, but they’ve always been very subtle, never letting on to the others that something is going on.

And yet here they are, Clint looking like the cat that got the cream, and Bucky staring adoringly at the archer.

“Looks like the alley cat finally caught the bird.” Sam whispers into Natasha’s ear, the smile obvious in his voice. And from his sofa, Thor laughs, his eyes flittering from the pair, to Sam and Natasha, as if seeking their approval.

But Steve is so dumb struck, a frown sitting heavy on his features. How did he miss something as obvious as this? It seems that everyone else knew something was going on, but Steve, genuinely had no idea.

But he’s not mad, in fact, there’s a fluttering feeling so deep in his chest. It had only been six months earlier that Bucky was lost and hopeless, Steve could never find anything in his best friend’s eyes, they had been dead and lifeless, he was lost deep in the folds of his mind.

But watching him now, it starts to make sense. Steve can still recall the day he saw life breathed back into Bucky Barnes.

It had only been five weeks into his stay, and despite being on pretty decent terms with most of The Avengers, Bucky was still distant and difficult to talk to, most days not saying more than a few words.

But one evening, Steve had found Bucky sitting on the roof, a wide smile painted on his face, and a reassuring sort of slouch in his shoulders.

“Hey, Buck. You okay?” Steve had pulled himself down beside the other man, a distant kind of worry settling in the pit of his stomach. But much to the super soldier’s surprise, Bucky had turned to Steve all bright eyed and cocky, a renewed sort of energy surging through the other man.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

And when Steve really starts to think about, that’s about the time that Clint and Bucky became inseparable. The two were always making a mess or causing trouble, one never too far from the other.

And Steve is known for being clueless, it’s something that Tony likes to make a big deal of pointing out. But he honestly never realised he was _this_ clueless.

It’s at this point that Natasha jabs a foot into Steve’s ribs, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to give the assassin a glare, but instead his expression drops as she nods her head in a gesture to the pair. And when Steve does turn back around, Bucky is looking at him all wide eyed and concerned, his face pulled into a frown.

Steve sends the man a half smirk, his way of telling Bucky that it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to be afraid. And sure enough it works, a huge smile spreading across the other man’s face.


	23. Winterhawk/huggers

**Bucky the cuddler. Bucky the soul latching cephalopod. Clint starts off his sleep, curled up besides Bucky. But in the middle of the night, he wakes up, face smooched against Bucky's arm, his own trapped awkwardly between, a thigh wedged arousingly high between his legs. Kinda gets used to it and then a super villain decides to present a monologue and generally ruin Clint's day. On that day, Bucky realises Clint cuddles as well. Literally by wrapping himself around Bucky's head and upper torso.**

* * *

 

In Clint’s defence, Vancouver is about ten times colder than he anticipated it to be. Believe it or not, it wasn’t actually an intention of his to end up in bed with none other than Bucky Barnes. And yet here he is, feeling a little more than awkward as he tries to get comfortable on the rickety bed, which by the way, he’s pretty sure is being held together by toothpicks.

“Barton, stop your damn fidgeting.” Bucky groans from somewhere beneath the layers of quilt and blanket.

Clint props himself up on his elbows, a blush begins to creep up his neck and flush his cheeks.

“Sorry, just finding it difficult to get my groove.”

Bucky rolls over to look at the other man, his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed.

“Your _groove_?”

“Well, you know how it is. You find a _groove_ in the bed, a space in which the springs don’t dig into your ribcage, but you don’t sink into the bed either.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh before rolling back underneath the mountain of sheets.

“Goodnight, Barton,” his voice wavers with amusement, a laugh still sitting at the edge of his lips.

Clint sighs and moves to settle down beneath the blankets, his body shuddering with the cold as he buries himself deeper under the sheets. His back is to the other man, but he can feel the heat radiating from Bucky. He learned from Steve that it’s a _serum thing,_ something that Tony often indulges in, but for Clint, it’s a comfort, a warmth he can only describe as _Bucky_.

And that’s what jolts Clint awake in the night, the heat. But it’s not just the warmth that Bucky is radiating, Clint’s body is apparently suffering because damn, he didn’t expect to wake up like this.

The archer’s face is pressed firmly to the hot skin of Bucky’s flesh arm, his own arms folded awkwardly against the other man’s broad chest. Bucky’s metal limb is encasing Clint, clasped firmly across his middle. And then of course there’s Bucky’s leg, wedged right between Clint’s own, pressing against the sensitive skin of his upper thighs, and applying a significant amount of pressure to a region that reacts to the tiniest amount of friction.

And Clint actually winces, his whole body overcome by a hot flush. Well, he definitely ain’t cold no more. And he really tries to ignore the sensations sat in pit of his stomach, he desperately tries to find distraction. But his breathing is laboured and his body is betraying him, and it’s not long before there’s a moan settled at the back of his throat, because this whole situation is just too much.

It’s honestly just pure luck that Bucky shifts slightly, his leg ghosting down Clint’s thigh as he moves away from the more sensitive area of the archer’s anatomy.

“Oh my god.” Clint whispers into the night, relief flowing through his entire being. If he’d be in that hold for a few more minutes, he wouldn’t have found composure.

His body slacks, his muscles relaxing and his mind clearing. He nuzzles his head further into Bucky’s arm, sighing with relief, his own arms moving to pull himself closer to the other man. Bucky senses the movement and half opens his eyes.

“I thought I told you to stop fidgeting?” Bucky’s voice is thick with sleep as he peers down at the other man buried in his arms.

“Yeah, well. I never had you down as a cuddler, Barnes.”

And despite it being dark, through the light seeping under the blinds Clint see’s the blush rise onto the other man’s cheeks, his body shying away from the archer.

“Sorry.” Bucky whispers, his metal arm moving away from Clint’s middle. But the man snatches it back, lacing it back around him.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” Clint says carefully, the waver in his voice betraying him.

Bucky laughs a little, his arm tightening around the archer.

“Never had you down as a cuddler.” Bucky mocks, the smirk evident in his voice.

“I’m not. That’s all you, buddy.” Clint chuckles.

Its months later that Bucky discovers Clint is a cuddler too, but for all the wrong reasons.

 

Bucky wakes up from a nightmare, his head spinning and his mind abloom with dark thoughts. He’d dreamt about Clint, about losing him. The previous day had been a rough one for his boyfriend, Clint’s head had been messed around with again, the archer had suffered at the hands of yet another super villain.

So it’s no surprise that when Bucky fully surfaces he find’s Clint wrapped around him. His bruised and tear stained cheek pressed tightly into the crook of Bucky’s neck, his arms stretched across the expanse of Bucky’s shoulders and chest, clinging to his side for dear life. And his legs are encasing Bucky’s lower half, his whole body resting lightly on the assassins.

Bucky’s heart thumps rapidly in his chest as he watches the other man sleep, his body occasionally jolting in obvious discomfort. He hates to see Clint like this, because the other man rarely shows his vulnerability, he’s already so insecure about his humanity, so he hides himself beneath a mask of confidence.

But its times like this that it all comes crumbling down, and Bucky’s reminded of how fragile his partner is.

He leans down to press a gentle kiss to the archer’s forehead, his own arms reaching around to pull the other man into a gentle hug.

“Sorry. I just needed to be close to you.” Clint whispers against Bucky’s neck, his eyes still closed. But his tone of voice says it all, he’s hurt.

“Never said I don’t like it.” Bucky huffs, a small but sad smile pulling at his lips. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky feels Clint smile against the skin of his neck, the archer’s arms tightening at Bucky’s side.

“I know.”


	24. Winterhawk/Bucky as a god, Clint as a mortal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > See notes for more details on this piece!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I re-wrote this literally like six times. I started off by just having like Steve observing Bucky spying on Clint from the heavens, but that was boring and didn’t give much insight into Clint’s life. So then I moved on and wrote a piece where Bucky is a god walking amongst mortals and bumps into Clint in a coffee shop, but it turned out a bit naff.
> 
> This went through quite a few makeovers before I finally settled and found my rhythm.
> 
> So here’s a brief overview of who’s what god. I basically went through lists of the Greek god’s and stuff, refreshing my memory because I studied gods a few years ago.
> 
> So anywho, Bucky is the god of war, I chose this because I thought it kinda suited the whole inner turmoil-badass demeanour thing that he’s got going on.  
> Steve is the god of love, as we all know Rogers is a giant softy and just wants to do what’s right, that and he just wants Bucky to be happy.  
> Tony is the god of wealth, that’s pretty self exclamatory. But unlike the god’s I like to think of Tony (at this point in his life) as less greedy, and more giving type of dealio. You know? He’s wise because he’s learnt from his mistakes, so he uses his wealth to benefit others.  
> Nat, Wanda and Sam also featured as God’s at one point in this story, but things go over complicated so I kept Nat as Clint’s mortal buddy, and cut Sam and Wanda from the story completely.  
> With that in mind, I hope you enjoy this piece! And I'm sorry for any typos etc.

**Bucky's a God and Clint is the walking - albeit extremely skilled and talented - human disaster that catches his eye.**

* * *

 

“You know, in all my time as the god of love, I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” Steve chuckles as he pulls out a seat beside his best friend.

Bucky doesn’t reply, instead he watches carefully as Clint stumbles out of the bedroom, sleep still racking his body as he struggles to get himself to move. His eyes are heavy and half lidded, he bleats quietly as he stretches his arms over his head, his shoulders cracking.

To Bucky, he’s one of the most beautiful things on earth. The way that _Bucky’s_ sweatpants are hung low on his hips, barely clinging to the skin there. The scars that lay waste to the plains of Clint’s abs and chest are something the archer is fairly conscious of, but in Bucky’s mind they tell a story, they show strength and bravery. And to some, the way that Clint’s blonde hair sticks up at all angles, flat on one side and wild on the other, or the way that there’s still some dried saliva pooling at the corner of Clint’s lips, catching in his stubble, might be unattractive. But to Bucky, it’s charismatic and inviting.

“Morning.” Clint’s voice catches at the back of his throat and scratches at his tongue, it’s rough and gravelly, his tone deeper than what it usually is.

He nuzzles his chin into the crook of Bucky’s neck, his head falling lazily against the other man’s, and slowly his hand slithers past Bucky and paws at the coffee on the breakfast bar they’re sat at.

“You’ve got work in an hour, and you haven’t even showered.” Bucky signs before he reaches down and picks up his own coffee. In response Clint slumps against Bucky’s back, a groan falling from his lips as he wraps his free arm tightly around Bucky’s middle.

Steve raises an eyebrow at the pair, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. It’s odd to see Bucky like this, living a mundane life with a mortal by his side. It’s been a little under thirty years since Bucky, himself, and his significant other, Tony, broke the rules and took human form. But they’d all become tired and fed up of their tedious positions in the heavens, there’s only so many thousands of years and then you get tired.

So with the blessing of their all father, the three trained up their protégé’s and left for earth. And despite gaining a human life span, and having to go about a mundane life, Steve enjoys himself, and clearly so does Bucky. For years Steve had been hassling his friend and despite a long term relationship with the goddess of Love and Beauty, nothing ever came of it, the relationship was built on vanity, not true feelings.

And yet here he is, head over heels in love with the walking disaster that is Clint Barton. The pair had bumped into each other about a year ago, Clint had been at the gym sorting out schedules for his archery classes, and Bucky had bumped into him at reception. With both of them being veterans, and both of them honourably discharged with life changing disabilities, the two immediately hit it off and it wasn’t long before Clint, and sometimes his friend Natasha, became a common addition to the house Steve shared with Bucky and Tony.

And Steve won’t lie, he likes Clint a lot and he enjoys the man’s easy company. Clint has an interesting life story too, it took a long time before he was confident enough to speak to Steve and Tony about it, especially since he was under no obligation, but after Tony pestered him with questions after finding out Clint had a bout as a carnie, the archer opened up and told the pair. And Steve hadn’t missed the way Bucky placed a gentle hand on the other’s man’s thigh, his eyes brimming with pride as Clint told his story.

And as it turns out, the man is stronger than most mortals. He’s been through it all, from an abusive father to being put through the system, a travelling carnie to a sniper in the war, Clint’s been through his fair share of shit, and yet he remains humble and humorous. Steve knows some of it is a façade, but he also notices the way that Clint and Bucky hold each other up, their minds moving at the same pace.

And Clint is a bit of a mess, he’s clumsy and often ridiculous, but everyone finds it so endearing, especially Bucky, who looks at the other man like he’s been made just for Bucky’s eyes, like he’s been made _just for Bucky_.

“I should shower.” Clint says weakly as he stumbles to a stand.

“You should.” Bucky smirks as he peers over his shoulder at the archer.

Clint narrows his eyes and pouts, a middle finger coming up between the two prompting a laugh from Bucky. And when Clint turns to leave, Steve brings himself to Bucky’s ear.

“You’re infatuated,” he says through a grin. Bucky swats him away with his metal arm and sends him a pointed glare, but there’s a smile settling on his lips and a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I know.”


	25. Winter Soldier Clint Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda crappy bc I ran out of ideas.

**Wintersolider Clint!!! For the Winterhawk submit**

* * *

 

“ **солдат**?” ( _Soldier?_ )

The blonde heaves once more, his chest pumping with the pace of his breathing, he lets out a wince before looking up through his wet fringe, droplets careering down the slopes of his face.

“ **Готов выполнить.”** ( _Ready to comply_.)

The older man smirks down at the restrained soldier, a sadistic kind of expression falls onto his face as he observes the asset carefully. The blonde is considerably smaller than their previous subject, and when they had first obtained him he was bitter and furious, and despite his obvious weakness, he fought with a passion and unique kind of strength.

Initially Pierce had chosen the man based purely on his background, that and he was the only _hero_ available to them at the time, but over the months he’s grown fond of his little soldier. He was difficult at first, hard to settle and very intelligent, but now he’s tame and reasonable, but the fire is still unmistakeably there; he’s perfect.

“ **У вас есть миссия”** (You have a mission.)

The asset pulls his lips back into something similar to a snarl, his breathing finally evening out.

“ **Считайте, что это сделано .”** (Consider it done.)

 

* * *

 

“You could at least try and enjoy yourself.” Sam chuckles as he pulls out a stool beside Bucky, his hand gesturing at the barman.

The assassin merely shrugs and continues to clink the ice around his glass, his concentration wearing thin.

“Parties aren’t my scene,” he says honestly, his body tensing with every drop in the music.

“Look, I know it’s difficult to deal with a situation like this, especially after being in the war and-“

“Sam.” Bucky drops his glass and sends Sam a sharp glare, his grey eyes ablaze with anger. “Don’t.”

The other man flings his arms into the air gesturing surrender, his expression nothing but sympathetic.

“I don’t want your therapy, or pity.” Bucky bites as he downs what remains of the vodka, the burn it leaves on his tongue a comforting sensation.

“Sorry buddy, I won’t go there.” Falcon shrugs it off and gives the barman an easy smile when he drops a beer at his hands. Sam scoops it up gratefully and moves his gaze to the dance floor where Steve is being dragged around at Tony’s arm as he introduces him to every newcomer. “They seem happy.”

Bucky follows Sam’s line of sight and watches as Steve awkwardly rocks on his heels in the presence of some businessman, he looks out of place and tense, his hand clutching his wine glass a little too enthusiastically.

“They’re definitely something.” The assassin huffs as he smirks at the barman and looks down to gesture at his empty glass.

“Don’t worry Buck, he’s not gonna forget about you.” Sam sniggers as he pokes at the other man.

Bucky simply rolls his eyes and sighs, a smile finally pushing its way onto his face.

“Given how much he’s been busting his nut with me these past couple of years, I’d rather he did.”

Sam barks out a laugh before slapping a hand at Bucky’s shoulder and giggling into the neck of his beer.

“You look like you’d rather spend some time in the grave than be here.” Natasha says dryly as she finds a seat next to Bucky, her crimson painted lips pursed into a smirk.

“ **все, что дал вам эту идею**.” (Whatever gave you that idea.)

Nat’s smirk widens as a glass of neat vodka is pressed into her hands, her eyes finding the barman’s as she gives him a thankful glance.

“If you two are gonna start speaking in assassin’s code, then I’m out of here.” Sam pipes up again, his eyes cutting between the pair.

“Don’t worry, you’re probably better conversation than this party pooper.” Natasha snides, her lips printing a crimson heart against the rim of the glass as she smirks into her drink.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m the life and soul of the party.” Bucky says as he waves his flesh hand around in an exaggerated manner, a grin starting to pull at corners of his mouth.

Natasha scoffs and places a steadying hand on the man’s thigh.

“James sweetie, I’m not sure anyone has told you, but you suck at parties.”

Sam promptly starts giggling again earning himself an approving smirk from Natasha, but also a pointed glare from Bucky.

And there’s words on the tip of Bucky’s tongue, but something stops him, the hairs on the back of his neck start to a stand, a shudder trailing down his spine. And when he looks to Natasha, she’s frozen in place too, her smile gone and her eyes finding Bucky’s.

“ **Где?”** (Where?) James’ voice is low as he pushes his glass to his lips, trying to conceal what’s being said.

“ **Я не думаю, что они в комнате . Кто-нибудь в?”** (I don’t think they’re in the room. Has anyone come in?) Natasha whispers against her glass, her serious expression silencing Sam who is watching the pair with a subtle kind of panic.

Bucky swivels slightly in his chair and peers across the room. Steve has been moved to sofa, still tethered to Tony’s side and the two are nattering nonchalantly. Wanda, Pietro and Vision are tucked away in one of the corners, engaged in discussions, and Rhodes is trying to deal with a rather excitable Peter who is desperately trying to convince James to let him go on the ps4.

“Nothing.” Bucky whispers as he spins back around in chair and musters up a fake laugh, trying to convince whoever’s watching them that they’re still enveloped in conversation.

“ **Снайпер?”** (Sniper?) Natasha laughs and smiles, but there’s an underlying sense of urgency to her voice.

“I’ll be back, get the word out.” Bucky leans in and places a kiss to Natasha’s cheek as he says it, trying to convey a sense of casualness amongst the trio.

He slides off of the stool and decides that gate-crashing Steve’s evening is a lot better than someone being killed, not that he’d care about gate-crashing anyways. He approaches the captain with a warm smile and a casual demeanour, but his shoulders are a bit more rigid than they should be.

“Stevie, can I borrow you and Tony for a sec?”

Tony stops midsentence and glares up at the assassin, a pout making its way onto his lips, he then smiles sympathetically at his company and watches as they leave, a slouch sitting on his shoulders.

“What’s up, Buck?” Steve sounds tired, he looks pretty worn out and his eyes aren’t setting on any one thing meaning he’s finding it hard to concentrate.

Bucky smiles falsely and barks out a laugh, this of course earns him a rather confused look from Steve and Tony alike.

“Okay terminator, what’s up?” Tony picks up on the act and grins sharply at the other man.

Bucky moves to sit on the opposing sofa, a familiar and fake smile sitting heavy on his features.

“The party is compromised. Given the fact that no-one’s come or gone in the past twenty minutes, me and Nat have our bets on it being a sniper,” he states as he picks up Steve’s wine and takes a sip, his words falling into the glass.

Tony laughs kind of hysterically and throws his head back, his eyes scanning the skyline beyond the huge panel windows. He returns to the trio and without even looking down, begins swiping at the face of his watch.

Bucky hears the bullet before he sees it, the glass comes crashing down prompting fearful screams and cries as it shatters to ground, and then he feels the skin on his flesh arm burst open as the bullet rips through his bicep.

“Everyone get down!” Steve screams over the panic filling the room. His eyes are wide and concerned when he looks at Bucky who has thrown himself to floor using the sofa Steve and Tony were sat on as cover.

“Knew I shouldn’t have come to this fucking party.” Bucky bites as he prods at the exit wound with his metal hand. It’s through and through.

A parade of bullets come flying through the window silencing any panicked individuals. Bucky takes this opportunity to look around. Wanda is shielding Pietro, Vision and Maria Hill, her eyes are manic and surprised. Natasha is close by, she’s flipped a table and has Peter pulled behind it. Sam, Rhodey and a few stragglers are pinned behind the bar. And then there’s an eerie silence that ensues once the shooting stops. Steve takes the chance and pulls off his tie, moving to tighten it around the top of Bucky’s arm, his face set with determination.

“Friday, any idea what’s going on?” Tony says frantically to his wrist, but there’s no response. “I think she’s been compromised.” The billionaire says solemnly, his expression serious.

“What the heck is going on!?” Wanda shouts into the room, her hands still braced with energy.

“Sniper.” Steve counters, his hands making quick work of Bucky’s mock up bandage.

“Well thank you captain obvious.” Peter shouts back into the quiet room.

“Hey, respect your elders, kid!” Sam’s voice pipes up from somewhere behind the bar.

“Look, as much as I love banter, this really isn’t the time.” Tony cuts into the conversation, his full attention still on his wrist and the virtual tab that has expanded there. “We’re running on the backup power right now. Friday has gone and there’s no information available to us as to the security of this building. This was an attack on our grid as well, Friday has been compromised.”

“That’s a bit shit.” Peter states, the comment earning him a slap around the side of the head from Natasha.

“Nat, please tell me you brought more than just a handgun?” Bucky says weakly as he looks at the other assassin.

“I’ve got a rifle in one of the cupboards under the bar, I’ve got a dagger in my boot, and Clint keeps a stash in the vent. If we can get up there, there should be a small weapons cache.”

“Where’s the rest of the team when you need ‘em?” Sam mutters. “Thor and Banner always miss out on the good stuff. Clint and Kate are probably eating pizza in their jammies right now.”

“Sam, shut it!” Wanda bites, her patience clearly wearing thin.

It’s at this point that the main door to the room flies open. Natasha braces her gun to her chest and waits, she’s not in the position to see right now, but she can’t exactly just roll out given that there’s a sniper watching their every move.

Bucky peers across the edge of the sofa. The man that’s entered is donning a tact suit, it’s all black and one sleeve is cut off at bicep, the man’s arm is embellished with a huge hydra tattoo. He’s carrying a high powered rifle, but his utility belt is well and truly decked out with an assortment of weaponry, he’s even got a crossbow strapped to his back.

The bottom half of the man’s face is concealed by a black scarf, and there’s licks of warpaint sitting against the agents pale skin contrasting the mish mash of pink scars falling across his eye sockets. He means business.

“I’m gonna jump him.” Steve whispers so lowly that Bucky isn’t even sure he’s heard right, but it stops the agent dead in his tracks.

“Steven Rogers. If you attack me now you seal the fate of every person in this room.” The man’s voice is singed with a Russian accent, it’s only slight but obvious all the same.

“What do you want?” Steve bites back. Tony thumps the soldiers arm and sends him a fiery glare.

“I have a mission.” Is the simple response.

“And what’s that?” Natasha spits from her place in the room.

And just like that the agent has moved across the room, the rifle is slung across his body but he has a handgun pressed to Natasha’s head. She springs into action and grabs the barrel twisting the man’s arm so that he’s cocked at an awkward angle, but he counters her quickly and slams an elbow into her face, her nose cracking beneath the blow.

Wanda moves away from her trio and braces her hands outwards, energy licking at her fingertips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man spits as he grabs a handful of Natasha’s hair and switches out his handgun for a knife, pressing it against her throat.

“And why not?” The rest of the team are seeping out of their hiding places, ready for a fight.

“I will win.”

Steve, being slightly behind the man, bolts at him, charging with all his strength. But the team are caught off guard when the hydra agent promptly stabs the entire length of the knife into Natasha’s chest drawing a gasp from the assassin who falls to the floor. He then swings around to catch Steve’s punch, crushing the super soldiers hand between his own and landing a hefty punch in the captain’s stomach.

Everyone else moves to engage the agent, but stop short when the scarf falls from the bridge of the man’s nose.

“Barton?” Steve practically whimpers as Clint moves to press his gun to the captain’s head.

Clint’s expression remains unmoved, his eyes drained of life.

“That’s not my name.” Clint spits, his Russian accent taking on a new meaning.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” Steve looks down the gun at his former friend whose entire face seems different. His skin is so pale, and there’s so many scars covering his face.

“He’s an asset.” Bucky has pulled himself to a stand. He’s cradling his arm and has paled out completely, but not from the wound. “Fuck, those fucking bastards.”

“Shut up.” Clint spits, his eyes finding Bucky’s.

Bucky can’t help it when his stomach becomes unsettled at the sight of Clint. Barton was someone he considered special, someone who he would dare to say that he loved, and somehow hydra have managed to take that too, just like they had everything else.


	26. Winterhawkish/ Clint's lost memory

**Clint get his head nocked around in a fight and looses his memories of everything after the circus and gets taken in by a nice old couple and works for them in a shop/cafe/idk. But then someone finds him working there so he suddenly gets a bunch of friends showing up whom he soon finds out are super heroes. Who then tells him he is one too, and in comes Clints self deprecating ways. He's nothing but a uneducated deaf carnie right? And why does the super hot solider flirting with plain old Clint?**

* * *

 

Clint sighs contently, the smell of freshly brewed coffee brings a wave of happiness washing over his body, and he straightens up a little from where he’s slouched against the counter, the scent bringing him a renewed kind of energy.

“Excuse me?”

Clint snaps himself out of the coffee haze and leans over slightly, peering over the till and down to where the tiny voice was resonating from. Stood beyond the counter is a tiny boy, all puppy eyed and fluffy, his black hair sticking up at all angles. He’s looking at Clint like he might just be the best damn thing on earth.

“You okay there, buddy?” Clint offers, his eyes do a quick once over of the café only to find what are probably the boy’s parents tucked away in one of the corners, looking on like their kid is about to win an Olympic gold medal.

“Can I have your autograph?” The kid’s voice has a twang, he’s obviously got some kind of Asian origin as the accent sits at the very edge of his words.

“Pardon?” The archer can’t help but frown a little at the words, which was clearly a mistake because the boy’s face just drops.

“I urm… I was just wondering if I could get an autograph?”

 _“It’s too early for this shit.”_ Clint thinks to himself as he inwardly sighs. Obviously he’s been mistaken for someone else, it’s like the third time this week and it’s getting kind of tiresome. “Yeah sure, pal!”

The kid’s face lights up as he shoves a piece of paper up at the older man, his smile absolutely beaming.

“Please sign it to Ivan, from Hawkeye.”

Clint falters a little when he spreads the paper out on the counter, now that is some kind of fucked up coincidence. Surely these people haven’t been asking him to sign their stuff on behalf of his carnie days, surely that’s not a thing, and especially given the fact that he literally walked away from that place without giving any fans a warning.

“Urm, sure.”

 

* * *

 

It’s been a long week for Clint, full of early mornings and some seriously weird shit, so it’s no surprise that when the bell for the door clangs fifteen minutes before he’s due to close on a Friday evening, he doesn’t find himself in the best of moods.

He groans and reluctantly shuts the till, all of his counting going to waste because some fuckwads have decided that having a coffee at eleven o’clock at night is a great idea. Curse Phil and Andy for going on a romantic getaway, if the partners were here they would shoo these fuckers out before they even had a chance to get through the door.

So when Clint does look up, he’s genuinely shell shocked to find none other than Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, Falcon, Scarlett Witch, The Winter Soldier, and Thor crammed into his café. And strangely enough, they all look just as shocked to see him.

“Can I help you guys?” Clint squeaks, his hands actually trembling a little at the sight of them. Maybe they’d heard about his escapades in the circus and they were coming to turn him in and he’d be doomed to prison for the rest of his pathetic existence. Or maybe they just wanted some wholesome organic coffee because they were fed up of the Starbucks employees freaking out every time they walked into their shop.

“Clint?” The Winter Soldier is the first one to talk, his voice is low and thick when he speaks, like it hasn’t been used in a while.

The archer feels himself light up with a blush, how does that guy even know his name- Oh wait, badge, he read the badge Barton, don’t get carried away.

“At your service. Can I like, get you guys anything? I know it’s not every day that The Avengers walk through the door, but we kind of have a closing policy that I need to stick to so…”

Captain America-Steve Rogers, steps up, his brows knitted together in a tight frown.

“Don’t you wanna go home?” and Jesus Christ, the guy sounds like someone has thrown his puppy into a dumpster or something. Why the fuck does he sound so sad?

“I mean… yeah. That’s kind of why I said about the policy, I know I only live upstairs but…” Clint trails off with the tension filling the room, he shuffles nervously and adverts his gaze to look at his shoes.

“Do you like working here?” Maximoff pipes up, and for some reason the question earns her some pretty questionable glares from her teammates.

Barton shuffles again and reaches up the scratch at the back of his neck, an itchy heat is rising there.

“I mean, yeah. It’s the best job I’ve had in years. Plus all the people that come in here are real nice.”

“How’d you get this job?” she pushes, and all gazes shift back to him.

Clint looks between them all the prickly heat pushing up to his cheeks, they’re definitely here to take him to prison, he might as well be honest now, if he lies and the courts find out, he’s fucked.

“Well urm, I had a get up in a travelling circus for a while. There was some falling’s out, and my brother was a massive dick, so I went about carving my own identity. But stuff went south pretty fast and after years of earning money through shifty deals and stuff, I ended up passed out behind a bar somewhere I guess.” They’re all listening intently and Clint has to swallow the lump in his throat. “A couple, Phil and Andy, found me beaten up in a back alley. They helped clean me up and told me I could work here till I got back up on my feet. But as it turns out, coffee and I go hand in hand.”

And Barnes, The Winter Soldier, actually scoffs out a laugh, his serious expression lightening a little.

“Well, I don’t mean to question your life story buddy, but you’re wrong.” Stark cracks, his arms folding across his chest as a smug sort of look filters onto his face.

Clint feels something boil up in his chest, his shoulders squaring and his arms falling flat to his sides. He feels his walls come back up, he’s stood here and told the honest truth, and some rich guy is questioning his honesty.

“I’m sorry, Stark. But I don’t know what you mean. That’s the god’s honest truth.”

Tony’s face flattens out a little as his mouth falls open slightly, Rogers is now sending the smaller man a pointed a sharp glare, as if scolding him.

“Sorry, Clint. He’s just-“ Rogers starts.

“An asshole.” Barnes finishes, his face still lit with a smile. And for some reason that grin pulls a smirk out of Clint. The two exchange a brief glance before Barton ducks his head to avoid the embarrassment of a blush.

 _“Did we just have eye sex?”_ He ponders.

“Do you remember how you ended up in the alley?” Widow joins in, her voice flat and blunt. And Clint would be lying if he said she didn’t scare the absolute shit out of him.

“Nope,” he rolls his shoulders with a shrug. “Anyway, can I ask why I’m being interrogated? Are you guy’s going to arrest me or not?”

“Why the hell would we be arresting you?” Barnes chuckles, his mouth pulling into a smirk as he sends Clint another longing look.

“I dunno, why else would you be here? I figured thievery or given the fact that I worked as an assassin for a little while. You guys aren’t exactly big on the whole- killing –thing.” Clint peers timidly at Romanoff and shrugs an apology.

“I’m sorry, but if you haven’t noticed already, we already have thre- two, assassins on board.” Stark says nonchalantly as he hovers around the counter poking at all the cakes and muffins.

“No, we have three. Three assassins in The Avengers. And you’re one of them.” Rogers says carefully, his eyes flickering between the archers. Clint huffs out a laugh and crosses his arms against his chest, slouching back on his heels.

“Okay. You’re hilarious, why are you actually here? It’s been like eight minutes and you guys still haven’t ordered any damn coffee.”

“Clint, I’m being serious. You’re one of us. We’ve been searching for you for weeks, you fell during one of our battles, and your track device in your suit must have been damaged in the fall. You were wearing a weird suit when the guys found you?”

Clint freezes a little, cos yeah, it’s true. When Andy and Phil found him, he was wearing some kind of tactical suit, but they all just figured it was a lad’s night gone wrong.

“Okay… Seriously though. What the hell are you doing here?” The archer tenses up, his face falling flat into a serious expression. This earns him a sigh from Barnes, who steps forwards and braces both of his hands against the edge of the counter, looking up directly at Clint.

“Steve is being serious. You must of lost your memory of us in the fall, but Clint we know you. I know you. Your asshole brother, Barney, his name was Barney.”

Clint scowls and leans forward with his elbows propping against the worktop. He stares Barnes down, looking for any signs of weakness.

“You can find that sort of shit out on the internet.”

“You’d only just turned 16 when you had your first kill. It was a guy trafficking young girls, you didn’t like what you saw, and you took him out with one shot through the eye socket.”

A gasp falls from the other man’s lips, he feels his throat tighten and he has to take a minute to step back and comprehend what’s being said to him.

“What do you want?” His voice is low and gravelly with the frog at the back of his throat.

“Clint, we’re being serious. You’re one of us.” Wanda steps forward, her hands glowing a dim kind of crimson. “Let me show you.”

Clint steps back a little further moving away from her, his eyes flicker nervously between the group.

“Clint, please. I promise I won’t hurt you. Just let me show you.” Wanda presses her hand to the counter, gesturing for Clint to place his on top of hers.

And so timidly he reaches out, pressing his hand gently against hers. And suddenly there’s red bursting behind his eyes, bringing forward images and memories. And they’re right, he was part of the team, he can see everything. All of the battles and all of the nights spent at The Avengers tower, but it’s so overwhelming. He retracts his hand sharply and lets a grunt rip through the barricade in his throat.

“How’s that possible?” he says shakily, his hands trembling.

Barnes- Bucky, reaches out and signs at Clint, two simple words.

“I-T-S-O-K-A-Y.”

Clint shakes his head and tries to shake the memories, but there’s more, they’re bursting out from the folds of his mind, and he’s torn between two realities.

“But I’m nothing, I’m just some deaf carnie kid. I’m not capable of being something more than that. I’m not capable of being a hero,” he’s so uncertain of himself that he falls back against the wall, the shelves jutting with the weight of his fall.

It’s only a few seconds before Romanoff has hopped the counter, her hands pressing to the sides of Clint’s face and shaking him back to reality.

“Clint, you are a hero. Every day, you inspire and motivate us to be better people. You’re a hero in every sense. You go out of your way to save the lives of the innocent, but you also exceed at bringing us together. You’re capable of so much more than you think.”

Clint peers up at her, teary eyed but reluctant. He finds her eyes and he’s shook with memories of their friendship, the nights spent cradled in an embrace, both of them seeking comfort and reassurance in the sounds of each others heartbeat.

“She’s right.” Bucky is beside him, his hand against Clint’s shoulder acting as a grounding force.

Clint looks up at Bucky again, and behind his eyes he sees the flickers of the past. The secret kisses and the long cold nights, the soft haze of sex and the smell of smoke on Bucky’s breath.

“You were the one that taught me what it was to feel alive again.” Bucky’s hand find’s Clint and he presses his flesh fingers to Clint’s wrist, finding his pulse.


	27. Winterhawk/Truth Spell

**Bucky gets hit with a truth spell.**

* * *

 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually hate you, Stark.” Bucky frowns down his nose at his mouth, like it’s just betrayed him. This of course prompts Tony to ascend into another bout of hysterical laughter, all previous concerns he’d had fluttering away with every giggle. “Or on second thought, maybe I do. This isn’t funny.” Bucky hisses, his eyes narrowing as he sends the billionaire a pointed glare. Thankfully though Bruce arrives, so for now, Tony’s life is spared.

“So, good news. The spell should only last a couple of hours, I’ve ran all the tests and the chemical imbalances in your brain seem to be levelling out as more time goes on. The compulsion to say exactly what is on your mind should drastically reduce in the next hour or so. How does it feel at the moment?” Bruce crouches in front of Bucky and reaches up, gently tilting his head so that he can flick a torch between the assassin’s eyes.

“Like a headache, not a painful one, more a sort of fuzzy feeling.” The words come easy to Bucky, normally he’s a difficult patient, never one to admit a weakness or injury of any kind.

“So, tell me. Have you ever cried at a movie?” Tony sniggers from a few meters away. He’s running scans and tests on the other man, a virtual tab hovering beyond his fingertips. But his full attention isn’t really in the game, he’s more focused on making the assassin squirm.

“Tony, that’s enough.” Bruce tries to weigh in, but he knows it’s practically useless.

“Maybe.” Bucky barely says, he’s squeezing his lips shut tightly and his whole body has gone rigid. Tony raises an eyebrow at the other man and rolls his hands, prompting an answer. “Fine. I cried at The Green Mile…. And Rise Of The Guardians.”

Tony folds into laughter, his hand clutched against his stomach as he tries to contain his hysterics. But it’s no use, he laughs so hard that he actually starts choking, his breathing coming out as gasps and coughs.

“Jesus, Tony. Give the man a break, you’re meant to be helping him!” Steve’s adopted his Captain America voice when he walks into the room, his face is thick with concern and he’s sending Tony a rather disapproving look.

“He’s being mean to me.” Bucky says past the frog in his throat. Seriously, screw this truth spell.

“How you feeling?” Steve starts, and the reply is on Bucky’s lips but then, with all kinds of ungracefulness, Clint Barton comes crashing through the door. He’s got dirt and blood smeared across his cheeks, he’s limping as well. But despite all of that, what catches Bucky’s attention is how scared the man looks, like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Thank god, fucking hell Buck, you know how to scare a man.” Clint pushes past Steve and moves straight to Bucky’s side reaching out to carefully move Bucky’s head around, his own examination allowing his shoulders to relax slightly. “You’re an idiot. Don’t ever do that again. Who the fuck goes jumping In front of laser beams? What if that had been an actual laser beam, not a spell!? You’d be dead and then my assassin trio would be back down to two.”

Bucky’s heart clenches tightly in his chest, suddenly it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Clint is looking at him, his blue eyes all wide eyed and concerned and fucking hell, the words are just sat on the edge of his tongue.

“You should be in medical.” Barnes glares down at Clint’s obviously hurt leg, but the statement earns him a calculated thump around the head on behalf of the archer.

“And you should never have jumped in front of a laser beam, but hey ho, here we are.” Clint folds his arms to his chest and glares down at Bucky, the concern being replaced by a complicated kind of anger.

“Hey, I know you were worried, Clint. But give him a break, yeah?” Steve places a grounding hand to Clint’s shoulder, bringing a sigh out of the archer.

“So, Barnes. What’s your favourite love story?” Tony is sniggering, and Bucky can feel himself lighting up with a blush. He won’t give into the man’s juvenile games.

“That’s enough.” Steve’s voice is solid again. He crosses the room and grabs Tony’s arm, yanking him out of the room. Bruce, who is still crouched at Bucky’s feet, sighs and rubs at his temples before holding up a single digit and then following in the path of the duo. Leaving just Clint, and Bucky. The archer shuffles awkwardly on his feet, his injured leg bringing a slight wince out of the man. Bucky frowns and reaches up to prod at the archer’s side, prompting the man to look down at him.

“You alright?”

Clint scoffs a laugh and re-positions himself before sliding down the wall to sit next to Bucky, his hands coming up to run through his hair as he does. And Bucky can’t help but watch the man with a growing kind of intensity, he’s been in love with Clint for months, but now the words are right there and he’s desperately trying to fight them back.

“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Clint timidly turns to look at the other man, his face has fallen serious and Bucky takes a mental note on how exhausted he looks. “When Nat told me you were hit, she sounded so solemn, I genuinely thought you were dead.”

“You were worried.” Bucky dares to say, his breathing becoming uneven and his heart racing in his chest. Clint smiles sadly and ducks his head to look at his shoes.

“Yeah, I was worried.”

“Why?” The assassin pushes even more, his heartbeat sounding so loud in his ears, and he can practically feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. And then Clint is looking at him again, he’s somewhere between confused and scared, his eyes flickering across Bucky’s face.

“Because I can’t lose you.”

With his trembling flesh hand, Bucky reaches up to cup the other man’s face and Clint obliges, his cheek nuzzling into Bucky’s touch as he huffs out a heavy and drawn out sigh. His breath ghosting across Bucky’s skin and sending waves of goosebumps washing over his skin.

“I love you, Clint.” Bucky’s voice is quiet and shaky, the proclaimed confidence that usually surrounds the assassin has fallen away as he lays his soul bare.

Clint studies Bucky carefully, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of the other man’s face. And then he leans forward, placing a quick and gentle peck to the man’s hot and dry lips.

“I know. We’ve both known for a while,” he smiles against Bucky’s lips, his hot breath sending shivers up and down the other man’s spine. “Shame it took a truth spell for us to admit it.”


	28. Winterhawk/ Nurse Bucky and patient Clint

**ER Nurse Bucky, regular patient, Clint.**

* * *

 

“Your second favourite person is here.” Sam snorts before he slides the notes across the counter. Bucky peers up from the computer, a frown forming on his face as his typing halts.

“Steve’s not here is he? He said he was out with Tony, and Tony usually keeps him out of trouble.”

Sam scoffs again and presses the notes closer to Bucky, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I said _second_ favourite person.”

Somewhat reluctantly Bucky reaches out and grabs at the notes. Before reviewing them he takes a moment to rub at his eyes. Its 3am, he’s not due home for another 2 hours but it’s dragging and sleep is heavy on his mind. He sighs and paws open the file, curiosity overriding the cotton wool like feeling wrapping around his brain.

 _Name: Clinton Francis Barton_  
Weight: 230lbs   
Height: 6,3.  
D.O.B: January 6 th, 1989.   
27 years of age.  
Medical conditions to be aware of: 75% deafness in both ears, uses specialised hearing aids. PTSD, Anxiety, depressive episodes usually triggered by severe panic or anxiety attacks. (Individual also prone to recklessness and self-destruction.)

 _Notes, Tuesday 12_ th November, 2016:   
Following several X-Ray’s it is apparent that the individual has two broken ribs, fractured an additional three, has broken his left hand in four places, as well as damaging the tendons in three fingers.  
There is the strong possibility that he has either slipped a disc in the base of his back, or received a sufficient amount of damage to the muscles there. We believe he may have fractured his right eye socket as well, but due to a miscommunication on the patient’s behalf, he is reluctant to let us check.  
Quote, ‘I have places to be and a dog to feed.’  
Please be weary and cautious with specific individual. Will often try to leave before initial examinations are completed, doesn’t like people near his ears, and certainly doesn’t like morphine. Is erratic and difficult.

Bucky rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, he’s going to need all his patience for this. Normally Clint Barton is his favourite ‘random hours’ patient, but right now all he wants is to sleep. He doesn’t want to talk Barton down from whatever adrenaline high he’s currently on.

 _“I wonder what building he jumped off of this week?”_ Bucky ponders, he thinks about that time last autumn when Clint had staggered into A&E at 6pm on a Sunday evening. He had been accompanied by a younger girl with flowing black hair and a serious face, which was probably just as well given that the man could barely walk. Turns out he’d managed to ‘ _fall_ ’ off of the roof of his apartment block, only surviving because a balcony had broken his fall.

And so the Nurse heaves himself out of the chair, there’s a real stumble to the way he walks, too tired and mentally drained to even begin comprehend the whirlwind he’s going to encounter in a few seconds.

And so he’s actually startled awake when he pulls back the curtain the find a withered Clint Barton. Unlike his previous eighteen?? Visits, the man is sat on the bed cross legged, and beyond the dirt and the bruises, he looks distant and upset. He doesn’t look at Bucky, or make any kind of quirky remark, in fact he shivers a little, his good hand bracing against his knee. And the sight actually makes Bucky’s chest tighten up a little, because maybe this is the last straw for his favourite patient that isn’t Steve.

“Fancy seeing you here again, Mr Barton.” Bucky drawls, his tone is somewhere between flirting and arrogance, usually it’s this kind of quip that brings Clint straight out of his shell. But the man barely reacts, he flicks his eyes briefly up to Bucky before shrugging.

“Clint. It’s Clint. I’ve told you that a million times, _Bucky_.” Clint shifts in obvious discomfort, a wince falling from his lips when he jars his ribs a little too hard.

By this point Bucky is growing genuinely concerned, this is definitely not the man he’s used to seeing. The same man that once crawled through a vent to get out of having his bloods done. The same man that once told Bucky he should wear his hair down, because apparently it brings out the grey in his eyes.

So, with a sigh Bucky drops his professional demeanour and adopts an entirely different approach. He chucks the notes at the foot of the bed, drawing a curious look from the other man, and then pulls up a chair, cocking his elbows against the edge of the bed and dropping his chin against his knuckles. He looks at Clint with a raised eyebrow, a gentle smile settling on his face.

“What’s going on, _Clint_ ,” he puts special emphasis on the archer’s name. “You’re not your usual hyper verbal, adrenaline fuelled self. What happened?”

“You sound like my therapist.” Clint snorts, a brief smile flickering across his features.

“Been spending too much time around Sam,” the nurse quickly counters. This thankfully draws another tiny smile from the other man, something closer to gratitude than happiness.

“Fuckers broke into my apartment block. Same tracksuit goons as last time, but they meant business.” Clint sniffles slightly, cursing himself as tears brim at his lashes. And Bucky has to really resist the urge to pull the man into a tight hug, he resists holding and comforting Clint like he wants to. But yeah, that’d be mildly inappropriate to say the least. “The bastards trashed everything. They stole stuff from the residents, they threatened my friend, Simone’s kids for fuck sake. And then they killed my fucking dog.” Clint’s voice cracks and the tears just start coming, and Bucky can only watch as the pits of his stomach swirl around and threaten to make an appearance.

“Lucky?” The nurse says quietly, his voice dry and thick. He’d met the dog on at least six occasions, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t in love with the stupid pizza dog.

Clint bites his lips and inhale sharply, obviously trying to pull himself back together. He cocks his head to look at Bucky, his blue eyes are bright with tears and pain, his lashes stuck together with tears.

“Yeah,” he manages.

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Clint. I hope you served them their just desserts.”

Clint smirks sadistically at that, his eyes darkening out as he adverts his gaze back to his injured hand.

“You can bet your ass I did. They won’t be coming back,” his voice is menacing and dark, a side that Bucky has never seen before. But then it’s like a switch, his shoulders fall, his face pales out again and his features brighten up with an easy smile. “Guess you’re gonna fix me up now?”

Bucky reaches out timidly and gently dips Clint’s head back to look at the state of his swollen and bruised eye. The other man stares Bucky down, he’s smirking and looks so damn sure of himself.

“Sorry, Clint. But I think that you may be unfixable, starting to wonder if we should just wrap you up in cotton wool or bubble wrap, will save the state, and myself a whole lot of time.”

Clint bats Bucky’s hand away with a laugh before gingerly stretching out his arms and looking himself up and down.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m in one piece.”

“Barely.” Bucky counters, the smirk evidence in his voice. For some reason sleep deprivation must be getting the better of him, because damn, he’s being so unprofessional but he’s kept Clint waiting on this game for so long, that it’s only fair that he finally joins in the fun.

The other man must sense this, because he drops his outstretched arms and shuffles closer to Bucky, tilting his head into Bucky’s line of vision obtaining his full attention, and then pouts and pulls the most pathetic pair of puppy dog eyes the nurse has ever seen.

“But Doc, you wouldn’t get to see me so often if I wasn’t such a disaster.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flush with heat, Goddamnit. He was smooth before he met Clint Barton, but now he’s just a mess. Must be some kind of vibe the guy just gives off.

“Yeah, I’d miss ya too much.”


	29. Winterhawk/Homeless Bucky.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone sent me a request for a homeless Bucky and a retired Clint ages ago, and this was the result. It's punchy and a little unorganised. I'm disappointed with how it turned out in the end, but it's been far too long since I posted! So hey, here goes nothing!

With an exasperated sigh Clint keels into himself and takes to running his hands through his hair messing it up further. Just a few meters away from him sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch is James, Clint’s most recent stray. Normally when he picks up homeless people, injured people, or people in tight situations, he sets them up in one of the apartments and gives them a probation period in which they have time to prove themselves, but there’s something about this guy James that Clint can’t shake. He’s skittish and edgy, his eyes flicker nervously across every surface and every nook in the apartment, he tenses every time there’s a sudden movement or a loud noise, and he just looks so… empty.

The archer surveys the other man with a growing sense of familiarity. James’ face is smothered with scars, dirt, and at least two months worth of stubble. His stormy eyes sit hollow in his face, bags hanging heavy from his sweeping lashes. And his whole posture is rigid and uneasy, his one metal limb whirring with the plates occasionally faltering when James tenses up.

“Your arm okay?” Clint ventures. Between some of the plates there’s a build-up of dirt, and what looks to be dried blood. The arm itself doesn’t seem to be in peek working conditions, sometimes James’ fingers stop working for a brief moment. “Looks like it needs some TLC. I know a guy that ca-“

“No.” James watches Clint through narrowed eyes, his lips have pursed and his features are scrunched into a glare.

“Right…” The archer adverts his gaze to look anywhere but at the other man, his eyes fall on Lucky who is flopped on the floor beside the coffee table watching the two with a curious look emblazoned on his face. “You got somewhere to stay?”

James shifts uncomfortably and sighs, his breath coming out shaky and rattled. Clint doesn’t seem like a threat, actually he’s probably the least threatening, maleficent person that Bucky has stumbled upon in months, possibly years. But there’s still something not quite right with the man, he seems haunted and sad, his good deeds covering up some kind of deep set guilt.

“Yeah, been on the road for a while.” James watches the other man who has brought his gaze back from watching the dog. He’s now analysing James’ features, as if he’s searching for a crack in the mask.

“One thing I need to know first, I don’t care whatever the answer is, but It’s something that I ask everyone who comes through here. It’s just so I can take further pre-cautions to help you, and keep the other residents safe.” Clint’s face falls serious, his expression darkening as he observes James. “Are you on the run?”

Bucky physically falters, his shoulders square up as his metal arm makes a slight crunching sound. He knows that his eyes have widened out and he probably looks like he’s either about to kill someone, or that he’s been caught red handed, there’s no in between. Clint’s expression doesn’t change though, he still watches with a mask of caution, and for some reason that brings Bucky back down.

“Yes.”

Clint’s expression lightens, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, instead he sighs and takes to running his fingers through his hair again, the gesture a clear sign of agitation.

“You can stay here. But you’ll have to earn your keep, and you’ll treat the other residents with respect. Treat them like you would want to be treated.”

James nods quickly and gives the other man a somewhat panicked look. Clint clearly has no clue who he is or what he’s done, but the man definitely has some kind of manner about him that Bucky wouldn’t want to push.

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat them accordingly.”

Clint relaxes and his shoulders fall slack, his hands coming down on his thighs with a light slapping sound.

“Well it’s settled then, you can stay here.”

* * *

 

Clint pulls himself up off of the sofa with a wince, since retiring his muscles tend to seize up quite a bit and most nights he finds it somewhat of a task just to roll off the couch. There’s another impatient tapping on the door and Clint sends it a pointed glare whilst struggling to loosen up his back.

“Clint Barton, open this door right now!” Simone might be a bit of a pushover, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t scare the absolute shit of the archer.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming,” he shuffles across the room and opens the door, the sun momentarily blinding him as he squints up at the mother. “What’s up?”

To Barton’s surprise, she’s not here to complain about the leaking guttering, or the broken radiator, or even that one shifty plug socket, nope. She’s actually stood at the door beaming down at Clint, a monumental smile consuming her features.

“He’s done it again. James fixed the tap in the kitchen, the flush in the bathroom, and even that one shifty plug socket!” Simone is practically glowing as she talks, her whole posture relaxed and slack. “I don’t know where you found him Clint, but he’s been an absolute blessing for this complex. Do thank him for me.”

Finally having recovered from the rays of the early morning sun, Clint grins back at the mother and sighs contently. James has saved him a lot of jobs, and a lot of money. He’s fantastic with literally everyone, his communication skills are off the chart, but the guy is also humble and gentle, Clint can’t help but adore the man.

“I’ll let him know that everyone appreciates it. I might even knock a little bit off his rent for it,”

The young mother rolls her eyes and pins her hands to her hips, a glance of disapproval fleeting across her features.

“Clint Barton, he’s been working his ass off for a good four-five weeks now. I don’t think that you should just knock some money off his rent, I think that you should buy him some beers or something too. The guy does seem a little lonely.”

“Fine, I’ll invite him to over for some beers.” Simone raises an eyebrow and draws a defeated sigh out of the man. “And knock some money off of his rent.”

She reaches out and places a gentle hand on Clint’s shoulder, her face lighting up again.

“You’re a good man, Clint Barton. Wish there was more like you.”

Clint just bats her hand away and shrugs, his face flushing with heat. He’s not used to being praised, especially given his current reputation. And that’s why he loves Bed-Stuy, he’s treated like a human being, not a man playing to be a hero.

* * *

 

“Bucky, you are an absolute futzin’ menace.”

Clint stands in the doorway to the bathroom, a few seconds prior he had been completely dry and fairly warm. He’s now dripping wet, cold, and faced with a shit eating grin.

“It was Lucky.” Bucky gestures at the Labrador who is sat in the bath snapping at the bubbles bouncing through the air.

“Of course it was Lucky. It’s just funny that he happened to grow hands and find a bucket just seconds after I walk through the door.”

Bucky snorts and turns back to the task at hand. Clint is dripping wet and cold, but it’s worth it. Bucky, as he likes to be called, has quickly become one of the most important people in his life. Not too long after the two first started to hang out they’d become joined at the hip, and it just so happens to be a bonus that Lucky loves the guy and is willing to let him bath him. Bucky might be haunted and at the best of times, twitchy, but he’s quick-witted, outrageously flirty, and genuinely a great guy.

“What’d you order in?” Bucky asks in distraction as he continues to gently lap water over Lucky’s back as he tries to get the oil stains from the dog’s fur.

Clint opts for taking off his shirt, it’s basically see through so there’s not really much point in having it on if it’s only making him cold. He throws it at the washing basket before crossing the room, pulling down the toilet seat, and taking residence there.

“Indian. Figured it’d make a change, especially since we’ve had pizza more or less everyday this week.”

Bucky chuckles and takes a quick glance at Clint, his eyes trailing across the other man’s body before he flushes a little bit and goes back to what he was doing. From the angle he’s at, Clint can see that the other man’s face has fallen serious and that his shoulders have squared. He’s about to ask if everything is okay before he’s interrupted.

“Clint, can I ask you something?” Bucky pulls the plug and reaches across the tub to grab the towel which he promptly wraps Lucky in. He peers across at the archer who just shrugs and gives a reassuring smile. “All those months ago, when I first came here. I told you I was on the run.”

“Yeah, and?”

Bucky sighs and drops his head slightly before pushing Lucky out of the bath and letting the dog run off into the apartment.

“You’ve never asked. Are you not worried that I’m dangerous?” Bucky’s looking at Clint now, his stormy eyes are dark and concerned, like he’s looking to Clint for approval.

“Not to be funny, Bucky. But if you were dangerous, I think I would know by now.” Clint says it with as much conviction as he can muster, but there’s a part of him that is screaming. He knows Bucky doesn’t sleep, he knows that the man is riddled with all kinds of problems, he’s seen the distant look the other man sometimes adopts. And of course, he’s intrigued by the metal arm and all the scars he’s seen on James’ torso. But weirdly enough, he doesn’t find himself that worried at all.

Bucky observes the man, looking for any flitters of a lie. And then his expression falls again and he sighs heavily, his shoulders heaving.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I just get a little conscious. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Clint knows it’s a lie, a mask that Bucky wears around him, but he doesn’t question it and instead gives the man a cracking smile.

“C’mon, Buck. Let’s go watch some Dog Cops.”

* * *

 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Clint says with a wince. Bucky doesn’t respond, his face is completely blank as he stitches up the gash on the archers head. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Bucky halts and inhales sharply, his metal arm whirrs as his grip on the needle tightens significantly. He didn’t mean to flip out like he did. He lost control when he saw the Russian mobsters shoving Simone around, upon requesting Clint for backup to you know, gives the guys a firm telling off, the archer’s face had paled and he had shoved Bucky down the stairwell.

Turns out the two make quite a team, after sending Simone upstairs, the pair put up quite a fight, taking on at least ten tracksuit scumbags. Luckily Clint didn’t catch the way some of them cowered away from Bucky murmuring about Hydra and The Soldier.

“I could ask you the same.” Bucky spits, his eyes darkening as he glares at the smaller man. Clint just huffs a sigh and tiredly raises his hands in defeat. It sends a pang of guilt through the other man, Clint looks fed up and exhausted, his hands shaking a little with the effort he’s putting into raising them.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Bucky sighs and ducks his head to avoid the guilt swimming around in the pits of his stomach.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just a little defensive, I’ll tell you one day. But until then, let’s just stick to the routine.”

Clint reaches out and gently tilts up Bucky’s chin so that their eyes meet. He’s smiling warmly, and despite the dry blood caking one side of his face, he still looks almost radiant. Bucky sighs and rests some weight on Clint’s hand, his eyes closing briefly as he takes a moment to relax, the tiredness hits him all at once.

“You don’t owe me anything, Bucky. You can tell me in your own time, or you don’t have to tell me at all. I don’t care.”

Bucky nuzzles his cheek against Clint’s calloused hand and opens his eyes to peer up at the other man.

“Thanks, Clint.”

* * *

 

“Your phone is ringing.” Bucky mumbles into the material of the pillowcase, he’s not ready to get up and that much is evident in the heaviness of his voice.

Clint groans from where he’s curled up against the other man’s chest, his head resting in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He doesn’t even try to move, instead he nuzzles further into Bucky’s chest, his untamed hair tickling at the man’s neck.

“My phone can fuck off.”

Bucky huffs and reaches up to run the fingers of his metal hand through Clint’s hair bringing something similar to a purr out of the other man.

“It’s been ringing off the hook, Clint. Might be an emergency.”

Clint groans in an exaggerated manner and cocks his head to look up at Bucky through tired eyes.

“It can fuck off, I’m owed a blowjob anyways.”

Bucky slaps Clint’s bare shoulder lightly, but there’s a smile painted onto his features. He adored mornings like this, relaxed and easy. His mind almost void of the nightmares. Domestic mornings with Clint, he could get used to this.

* * *

 

“You’re totally boyfriends.”

Clint grimaces and shys away before taking another extended sip of his coffee. It’s hot and singes his tongue, but it’s fine because he doesn’t really want to have this conversation anyways.

“We’re more like friends with benefits,” he clarifies through the lava nipping at his lips.

Kate scoffs a laugh and tilts up her cup to take a swig. She’d ordered some kind of soya latte thingy that Clint was very unfamiliar with. Rich kids and their weird drinks, you can’t beat a good old black coffee.

“Clint, friends with benefits don’t spend a night curled up on the sofa together watching re-runs of friends only to be followed by a snuggling fest in the bedroom. Not to mention the ridiculous heart eyes that you make at each other.”

“We don’t make heart eyes!” The archer flushes a crimson colour, he’s been caught red handed. “Besides, Nat and I sometimes curl up together and watch re-runs and we’re not fucking!”

Kate throws the man a disapproving look before raising an eyebrow and sighing rather heavily.

“You’re hopeless, in love, and in denial,” she murmurs into the cup. “Does he know about your double life yet?”

“No.” Clint snaps, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “And I’d like to keep it that way!”

Kate rolls her eyes and slumps back in the booth.

“Clint, it’s only a matter of time-“

“Katie. It’s fine. I can keep The Avengers and Bed-Stuy separate. It’s not that hard.”

The woman falls quiet and peers up somewhat timidly, her eyes darkening as she observes the older man.

“But Clint, how long for?”

* * *

 

“I think you need a new job.” Bucky sighs as he once again tends to Clint’s wounds. It’s not often that Clint gets called out, only once every couple of months, but it’s beginning to raise some concern, especially since he always comes back absolutely battered. “Surely there’s safe guards in place for this sort of thing? What kind of Security Company keep allowing this to happen?”

From his place on Bucky’s lap, Clint opens a bruised eye and looks up at his boyfriend.

“It’s a bit of a shifty job. It’s got negatives, but it pays the bills.”

Bucky urges the smaller man to sit up before reaching out and carefully cupping his face with both hands.

“But, Clint. An office job pays the bills too. This isn’t your only option.”

The archer looks a little ashamed. His shoulders slump as he leans heavily into Bucky’s touch. Bucky knows there’s more to the story than what he’s being told, and despite the overwhelming urge that he has to protect Clint, he’s not gonna get involved.

“This is the only thing I’m good at.” Clint says carefully, his voice thick with emotion.

“That’s not true.” Bucky pinches at the archer’s cheeks and smirks. “You’re good at blowjobs too.”

This of course earns him a playful glare and a slap on the bicep, but Clint becomes unburdened and his face brightens.

“I hate you.”

“I think you mean, you love me.”

Clint’s practically glowing when he meets Bucky’s eyes, a warm smile edging its way onto his face.

“Yeah, probably.”

* * *

 

It’s Lucky that wakes Bucky. He’s barking madly from outside the bedroom door and Bucky is just about to tell him to shut up when he hears the distinct sound of a door being kicked in. Immediately he shakes Clint awake, the other man looks bleary eyed and peeved off for all of two seconds before he absorbs what’s been said.

“Got anything?” Bucky whispers to the now awake man.

“There’s a semi-automatic under the third panel of the bed.”

Bucky doesn’t have time to question why it’s there, instead he reaches under the bed and pulls the gun from its place.

The two men spring into action, creeping into the main living area with an unordinary amount of stealth. Clint keeps close to the walls and slides into the open plan kitchen, Bucky leaps to his side and forces the gun into the air between them and the intruders.

“Jesus, Clint. Do you answer your goddamned phone!?”

James is somewhat shocked to see none of than The Avengers, crammed into Clint’s apartment. They’re all bloody and broken, and suddenly Bucky’s heart is thumping in his chest. Because oh god, Steve Rogers.

Natasha looks Clint up and down. He’s squared and tense, his eyes flickering nervously between the still braced Bucky, and his friends. Any normal person would have dropped the gun by now, The Avengers are in his living room, that’s enough to make a normal man squeal like a girl. But Bucky is tense, his eyes fixed firmly on Steve.

“Who’s the hot mess and when’s he gonna lower the gun?” Tony raises his hands and smirks through the obvious pain. He’s not in his suit so the dark bruises and deep cuts littering his skin stand out.

Natasha has gone rigid, her entire body is tense and pulled together. Clint quickly notices the nervous flicker in her eyes and it takes him a moment to realise that she’s not just bothered that Bucky is holding the gun, she’s scared.

“Bucky?”

Clint’s eyes snap quickly to Steve who looks like someone has literally just shoved a knife through the middle of his chest. His eyes are watering and his mouth is hanging slightly open.

“Stevie.”

“You know each other?” Clint is surprised to say the least his eyes flickering back and forth between the now very tense team, and his boyfriend. Bucky sighs in an exasperated manner and drops the gun somewhat unwillingly. He doesn’t look at Clint, he keeps his eyes on the floor.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve whispers carefully. He looks torn between collapsing to the floor in tears and consuming Bucky in the most suffocating hug possible.

“ _The_ Bucky Barnes.” Clint glares down at Bucky who is trying his best to dissolve into the ground. “You failed to mention that one.” The archer hisses menacingly. “How is that even possible?”

“Because he’s not the James Barnes that everyone remembers. Isn’t that right, soldier?” Natasha says dryly, her lips set in a stern line. “He survived the fall from the train. Was picked up by Hydra. They had to make some alterations, including replacing his un-saveable left arm and wiping him of all memories. Looks like he’s had a bit of relapse though. Never put two and two together, never asked where you were from. But it makes sense now.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably and finally looks back up sending Natasha the most daring and terrifying glare that Clint has ever seen.

“The Winter Solider,” she spits as she evens out her own glare.

Clint’s body runs cold and suddenly everything falls into place. Of course, Jesus Christ. That explains the nightmares, and the skills, and the terrifyingly strong metal arm emblazoned with the red star. Fucking hell, he’s been fucking the winter soldier. Nat might never forgive him.

“You’re kidding me.” The archer whispers bitterly as he takes a step away from the other man. This prompts Bucky to look up at Clint. He doesn’t just look angry, he looks infuriated.

“I knew this would happen, the moment you knew who I was, you’d run away. Just like everyone does. Fuck you Clint, fuck you so much.”

“Whoa, whoa. I never said I was running away from you! I just can’t believe you didn’t think to fucking tell me-“

“Oh, cos you’re fantastic when it comes to spilling the beans. Were you ever gonna tell me that you know the avengers?!”

“Actually.” Tony butts in promptly. “That’s Hawkeye. He was an Avenger. Now he’s more of a stand in.”

Bucky’s glare thickens as he steps closer to Clint again.

“Okay, so were you ever going to tell me that you were an Avenger?”

Clint physically stutters and trips over himself a little bit as he does.

“Well…. I was going to but-“

“Wait.” Natasha’s icy voice splits the conversation in half. “Are you two?”

Clint goes rigid as gives his best friend a nervous and uneasy smile. Bucky doesn’t look back around at the group, he can’t face Steve.

“How do you even know each other? I can barely comprehend that you’re actually alive, let alone…. With Clint, of all people.” Steve ventures past the noise of protest on Clint’s behalf.

“He found me.” Bucky’s walls drop as he huffs a sigh and turns to look at his former best friend. “He didn’t care about my past, he just wanted to see that I got back on my feet.”

“And by back on your feet, you mean into his bed?” Widow hisses.

Steve shoves to the front of the group and glares menacingly at Natasha who has now turned away in mock disinterest.

“That’s enough, Natasha,” he looks between the pair and inhales sharply. “We’re gonna sort this out.”

“Why are you even here!?” Clint hisses as he folds his arms across his chest in frustration. One minute he was in dream land with his hunky boyfriend, Bucky. And now he’s being confronted by the awful truth that said boyfriend is not only the world’s deadliest assassin, but also Steve Rogers’ best friend.

“You didn’t answer you phone.” Tony shrugs.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you kept this life of luxury from me for so long.” Bucky smirks as he gulps down the rest of the whisky and plonks the glass back onto the counter with a smile.

Clint rolls his eyes and grimaces as he takes another swig from his beer. After everything had finally settled down, and Clint introduced Bucky to his life as a former avenger. His boyfriend has been in and out of Tony’s workshop for either maintenance, or drinks, there’s no in-between. And Clint’s starting to wonder if he’s made a mistake.

“Shouldn’t have introduced you to Tony’s plush life. Especially his parties.” Clint extends his arms as he looks around the busy room.

Bucky chuckles before slithering his arm around Clint’s waist and pulling him close, his lips finding the sensitive skin of the archers ear.

“But you love it like this.”

And Clint flushes, because Bucky’s hit the nail on the head. He does love this. He loves that his partner is not only comfortable and relaxed around his team, but he’s also healing. It’d taken a long time for everyone to adjust, particularly Natasha. Bucky had gone and lived with Steve for a while following a very awkward couple of months in which Steve was practically living on Clint’s doorstep begging to see the other man. But everything eventually fell into place, and somehow it’s worked out for him.

And nothing ever works out for Clint Barton so he’ll be damned if he lets any of this slip away.

“Yeah, maybe I do love it like this.”


	30. general/ de-aged Clint aka spidermonkey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Another deaged Clint! Crazy climbing spider monkey. Insanely good at climbing all objects animate, inanimate and human. Insanely good at sneaking around too, but monkey-like Clint. Tony calls him 'monkey boy' and snatches Clint from wherever he's at to just play because they're bro's. Bucky however will purposely place Clint in high places (especially ceiling rafters) and join him. To sleep. Someone, (fury? Coulson? After Clint's terrorized the helicarrier crew/SHIELD agents?) finds them."
> 
> Btw, for reference, eyas are baby hawks/falcons, that's the inspiration for my name. I know, it doesn't make sense but I made a punny kind of thing so yeah, sorry for typos or whatever, enjoy.

3 weeks since Hawkeye became Hawkeyas.

16 days since Clint first started ‘climbing the walls.’

2 weeks till the antidote is ready.

1 day since Clint last scared the stars and stripes out of Steve Rogers.

 

* * *

 

It’s an easy and relaxed Sunday in the tower, it’s not often that the team take time to come together and chill out, but there’s nothing on the schedule for today and Tony has officially signed them off Avengers duty. He’s told Friday that if any alerts should come up that she can reroute the calls through to The Young Avengers, he wants to catch up on The Walking Dead so call outs are off the cards for today.

The whole team are sprawled out on the communal floor, this of course excludes Steve who despite the many protests from the rest of the team, embarked on his usual morning run, and Wanda and Clint. Wanda is on Hawk duty, no-one assigned her, and they don’t have to. She genuinely enjoys watching Clint so she always opts herself in.

But clearly having a child in the tower is taking its toll on the super humans. Tony, who is usually hyper verbal and argumentative, is quietly napping in Natasha’s lap. The assassin herself looks tired and withered, she’s gently running her hands through Tony’s hair and it seems to be lulling her to sleep as her head slowly begins to fall against the back of the couch.

Vision is enveloped in his research, scanning the internet for tips and tricks to looking after human children. He’s confused to say the least, but he wants to make the effort because Clint is his friend and as an adult he practically adopted Wanda, Vision wants to give something back.

Bucky is perched besides Natasha and Tony, these days he’s even more hypervigilant, his tired eyes always keeping watch over not only Clint, but also the rest of his exhausted teammates. He’ll be damned if he lets anyone touch his family.

Bruce is walking an interested Sam through the stages of the antidote. Surprisingly Sam and Tony have become major pillars in tiny Clint’s life, they’ve taken their roles as guardians very seriously and Sam is showing genuine concern for the wellbeing of the little archer.

And Thor is in the process of washing up the leftovers from breakfast. He’s become somewhat over-protective and sometimes shadows the child to the point where Tony (that’s right, Tony of all people) has to intervene.

But the domestic bliss soon comes crashing down in the form of a screaming Steve Rogers. Natasha bolts awake, prompting an already edgy Bucky to startle into a defensive pose. Tony, who had been jostled by Natasha’s awakening is lying face down in her lap groaning.

Thor’s previous activities have been forgotten and he’s already summoning Mjolnir, thunder clapping overhead. Bruce is holding his head in hands grimacing, Sam is sighing as he tries to comfort the startled man, and Vision on the other hand, is ignorant to Steve’s cry.

The captain walks onto the communal floor amidst the panic. His clothes are clinging to his body as around 8 sticky topped arrows drag down the material, and he doesn’t look particularly impressed, his face flushed a funny kind of pink.

A giggling Wanda and Clint follow. The eight year old is dragging Wanda by her hand as he pokes fun at Steve, who is desperately trying not to snap at the kid.

“Jesus Steve, do you have to scream like a girl every time this happens!?” Bucky hisses as he tilts his head into his hands and takes a moment to breathe.

“He surprises me every time, he’s stealthy.” Steve’s face is quickly turning more crimson than pink, his features pulled into a firm frown.

“He’s also eight years old.” Tony grunts as he buries his head further into Nat’s lap, desperately trying to avoid actually getting up.

“He’s not a normal eight year old though, is he?” Steve bites back, his patience wearing thin.

“I scared him again.” Clint says triumphantly as he puffs his chest and drops Wanda’s hand to race across to the sofas. She doesn’t try to stop him, instead she leans back against the wall and watches him with a fond smile growing on her lips.

Child Clint is a stark contrast to the adult version that everyone is so used to. He’s hyperactive and lively, even at 9am. This much is evident when he jumps onto the backs of Tony’s legs bringing a pained grunt out of the billionaire.

“C’mon Tony, can we play with the drones again today? You said we could,” the archer giggles as he thumps himself down against Tony’s back and lays his cheek between the man’s shoulder blades. “Please?” he whines.

“Clint, buddy. We were up till 11o’clock last night playing with drones. Between that and you waking me up at 3am for some midnight snacks, I really want some sleep.”

Clint abruptly sits up and frowns at the man huffing as he folds his arms across his chest.

“Bucky said that you always stay up late. You can’t be that tired.”

Tony groans again and tilts his head to look back at Bucky sending him a sharp glare. The other man just smirks and shrugs, despite feeling somewhat guilty at the sight of the exhausted billionaire.

Clint quickly picks up on how tired Tony actually is and his expression softens. He hops off of Tony’s legs and plonks himself down on the floor beside the sofa. When Tony peers curiously at the kid, Clint gives him a shrug and smile.

“Don’t worry, Tony. It’s okay if you can’t play today. I’ll just watch some movies instead.”

Tony sighs and gives the child a smile. He can’t help but adore Clint. He’s always found himself admiring the archer, from day one he knew the guy was something special. Clint is inwardly selfless, he cracks jokes and has banter but he never takes credit for anything, not really. Clint Barton is an underdog, he cares too much and emotionally invests himself in the team, and apparently being genuine and sensitive is a trait the archer has always had.

As a child, Clint is wise beyond his years, despite being playful, hyper active and sometimes very annoying. He’s also very aware and intelligent, he doesn’t like it when the adults dance around him and he often gets grumpy if they exclude him from ‘mature’ conversations.

So Tony can’t help but feel guilty when Clint moves away to pick up the tv remote, he looks genuinely carefree and that’s not something the child shares with his mature counterpart.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go down to the gym.” Sam pipes up as he crosses the room and swoops Clint up into his arms. The little man obliges and clings to Sam, yapping in his ear about assault courses.

The other’s wait till Clint is out of ear shot before resuming their morning’s activities.              

* * *

               

“You have to come and see this!” Sam exclaims as he bursts onto the communal floor with a devious grin and a phone clutched to his chest.

“Sam, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner.” Steve says beyond the sound of oil hissing in the pan.

“Steve, seriously, you need to come and see this. Vision can watch the food for a few minutes.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and turns to give Sam a pessimistic kind of look. Vision isn’t exactly great with food, he’s nearly set the tower on fire countless times after getting distracted by recipes.

“You are safe to go Captain Rogers, Friday will give me instructions.” Vision tries to give Steve a reassuring smile, but it’s more disturbing that comforting.

“Fine,” he groans as he drops the wooden spoon into the pan and turns to leave.

“Trust me, this is something you’ve got to see.” Sam giggles. Steve recognises when the other man is up to no good and simply inhales sharply scowling as he crosses the room.

“This had better be worth me compromising dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Steve looks up to the rafters and then back down at the rope hanging in front of him.

“Sam, I’m not going up there. I don’t have a death wis-“

“Steve, please. Trust me on this one.”

“The last time you made me get up into the rafters Clint shot me straight in the face with a putty arrow.”

Sam rocks back on his heels and groans in frustration.

“Jesus Steve, just go up. It’s not what you think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and reluctantly pulls himself up the copious lengths of rope. Despite his strength, it still takes him a few minutes to get to the top, and what lies beyond him startles him in the best kind of ways.

Lying in the closed off part of the rafters upon piles of blankets and soft toys, are Bucky and Clint. The child is sprawled Bucky’s chest with his arms laying limp against Bucky’s sides. The assassin on the other hand, has his arms curled protectively around Clint with his head propped against a large cuddly fox. The two are out cold, with either twitching occasionally but it’s still something Steve thought he would never see. Even _his_ Bucky, his _1940’s Bucky_ was nervous around children and yet here he is, looking like he’s at home.

For a moment Steve contemplates waking the pair up and forcing them to bed, but after mentally scolding himself because he knows Bucky is still riddled with nightmares of Hydra and Clint too suffers, despite being so young and seemingly innocent, often has nightmares describing his monster of a father, he decides to the leave the two be and instead drops to the floor with a quiet thump.

Sam is looking smug with his arms folded to his chest and his eyebrows raised.

“Told ya.”

Steve rolls his eyes and acts unsurprised. But internally he’s still finding it difficult to comprehend, it’s no secret that Bucky is protective of Clint, even as an adult Bucky takes it upon himself to protect the archer, but this is something more than that, this is dedication.

Steve thinks back to the odd times as an adult where Clint spoke of his rough upbringing, and he can pinpoint a very specific evening in which there was a fire in Bucky’s eyes as Clint spoke. Growing up Steve and Bucky had never liked bullies, Bucky would get especially passionate when it came to them, and despite being a different man, Bucky still carried his sensitivity heavy on his shoulders.

 _“He’s trying to make up for the lack of a guardian that Clint had before, trying to void some of those nasty memories. He wants Clint to experience what it is to have family.”_ Steve thinks.

 

* * *

 

As the days go by, the team become adjusted to having a kid around. And strangely enough, Tony is the best adjusted to the situation. He no longer spends hours, sometimes days tucked away in his labs, instead he picks Clint out from whatever hiding place he’s fond of that day and spends copious amounts of time playing with the little one and teaching him new skills.

The others watch as this new side to Tony unravels, and it takes a while for them to understand the switch in his attitude before they realise that as a child, Tony was in a fairly similar position to Clint. His dad may not have physically abused him like Clint’s, but the emotional abuse had been very real for the billionaire and had impacted his life massively. So the pair held a strong bond with one another, something that was barely comprehendible for the rest of team, and so when it was finally time for Clint to change back, it's Tony that was the most upset.

“I know it’s stupid, because of course I miss the real Barton, but it’s been a journey and it’s been quite fun.” Tony whispers across the pillow one night. Steve listens carefully and through the folds of darkness he hears Tony sniff harshly. “What if when he changes back everything that we built disappears?”

Steve sighs and snuggles closer to the smaller man.

“Tony, everything you’ve done in these past couple of months have been amazing. Clint got to experience what it was like to have a real childhood, and you were the one that gave him that, he’ll appreciate that.”

Tony pushes his head into Steve’s chest and sighs, his chest heaving against the upset.

“He’ll probably be embarrassed more than anything.”

“Maybe outwardly, but he’ll definitely appreciate everything that you’ve done.”

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe I cried.” Clint grimaces as he nuzzles his head into Nat’s stomach and groans. “I’m actually gonna die of embarrassment.”

Natasha chuckles and reaches down to tilt Clint’s chin up so that their eyes meet. The archers face is flushed, his expression sad.

“Tony cried too so its fine,” she tries to reassure him as he rests his head back down prompting Nat to play with his hair. “He missed you, he misses little you, but he’s just afraid that you’ll lose the bond you made.”

Clint frowns and peers up at his partner.

“No way. He gave me the best experience as a kid, ever. I never got any of those ‘normal’ childhood things when I was little. It’s weird to say, but he was like the dad I never had.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows and a smirk grows on her lips.

“Bucky missed you. He liked hanging with little Clint, but I think he definitely missed the relationship he had with bigger Clint more.”

Clint lights up again, his cheeks fading back to red.

“Shud’ up, Tash.”

She moves her hand to carefully cup Clint’s unshaven face. Their eyes meet again.

“But most importantly, I missed my best friend.”

Clint’s eyes flicker with emotion before a small smile starts to grow on his lips. He hugs closer to Natasha and sighs happily.

“And you say love is for children. You might not be in love, but you’re stuck with me for a hypothetical brother for the rest of your sorry life.”

Natasha sighs and rolls her eyes, but there’s a genuine smile on her lips as she lays back against the pillows. She’s glad to have Clint back.


	31. Winterhawk/ Coffee fluff.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone thinks Clint loves straight black shitty coffee. And yeah he does, he will drink anything but that despicable caffeine free coffee. But what he really loves is the sugary shit he gets at Starbucks. He's a gold member at Starbucks. So when Bucky goes to take a drink out of Clints cup, "they have better coffee than the tower!", and finds that it's PUMPKIN SPICE flavored. What's a guy to think?"  
> Sorry for typos and stuff, enjoy.

Clint’s profile is thickly lathered in the mellow golden rays of the early morning sun, his breath coming out in wisps and fogging up the glass of the window pane. Bucky watches as a visible shudder jolts through the man before he huddles closer to his coffee cup, seeking warmth from the steadily rising steam.

It’s early, ridiculously early. And normally it’s rare that Clint is up before 11am, but today is different. Through the folds of sleep Clint had abruptly woke Bucky at exactly 4am and dragged him out of the tower, barely saying a word as the two waded through a foot or so of snow.

When he had asked, the only response Bucky got, was something about ‘not usually getting snow’ and ‘sunrise.’ But now he’s here, and now Clint is hypnotised by the sunrise, Bucky is really, really glad that his partner did drag him out, because he’s never seen Clint in such a beautiful light.

His dirty blonde hair is tucked tightly beneath a grey beanie, one of Bucky’s actually, and his fringe is sticking flat to forehead just sitting above his half lidded eyes. His cheeks are pleasantly rosy with the heavy chill sat in the winter air, his body tucked tightly into itself as the archer tries to keep the heat in. And his eyes, despite being tired and half closed, are reflecting the picture beyond the window, glowing bright with oranges and reds, shining with a kind of optimism that Bucky only see’s once in a blue moon.

And jesus Christ, Bucky is so head over heels in love with the beautiful man sat in front of him. And if picking up on those thoughts, Clint turns to his boyfriend and offers him a lazy but warm smile, the grin reaching the creases in the corners of his eyes.

“What are you drinking that’s so good anyways? Never thought you’d be the one to call out how disgusting that sludge that you make is.” Bucky chuckles, his own hands circling tighter around his cup. He’s chosen to go with a decaf latte, as soon as they return to the tower, he wants to return to the warm and welcoming depths of his bed, so caffeine isn’t a good call if he wants any sleep.

“Hey, the sludge I make is the best kind of sludge, I never said it was disgusting, I just said starbucks do it better.” Clint smirks as he peers between his cup and his boyfriend, the bottom half of his face becoming buried in his novelty Captain America scarf as he does. “Try it.”

The cup is gently pushed into Bucky’s hands, Clint’s own lingering as their palms briefly touch. And Bucky is surprised when the scent that carries is surprisingly pleasant and sweet, he raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend but Clint just buries himself further into the scarf, watching Bucky carefully.

So with an understandable amount of caution, given Clint’s track record with awful coffee, Bucky raises the cup and takes a pessimistic sniff before raising the drink to his lips and taking a small swig. He’s quite shocked when his tongue explodes with the sweet and undeniable taste of a drink that is **_so_** a vanilla latte.

“You’re drinking something that doesn’t taste like mud,” the assassin smirks as he laces his flesh hand through one of Clint’s outstretched hands and pushes drink into his other.

Clint laughs a little before nuzzling through the cotton of the scarf and pushing the drink to his lips, a parade of goose bumps jolts up any skin that isn’t covered as the welcoming warmth of the coffee spirals through his being. Bucky catches this and squeezes his boyfriends hand a little tighter, a laugh sitting at the edge of his lips.

“I don’t understand you sometimes, Clint Barton. You surprise me every day.”

Clint chuckles through the cup pressed to his lips, his golden lit eyes finding Bucky’s as he gives him what Peter refers to as _heart eyes_.

“Yeah, I keep you on your toes old timer,” the man drops his cup and leans across the table into Bucky’s space, his breath all caffeinated, sweet and hot, sending a wave of fondness rushing to the pit of Bucky’s stomach. “Besides, you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Bucky pushes aside his own drink and moves to meet Clint, their noses practically brushing as he flicks his gaze between Clint’s eyes, the two now bathing in the warm glow of the winter sun.

“Damn right, I wouldn’t.” Bucky says onto Clint’s vanilla lips.


	32. Winterhawk/Angst-character death.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My other angsty thought was more along the lines of super sad death fic about the chorus of the song with one them trying to rescue the other from being abducted & torture and they get there in time to beat the bad guys but are too late to save them from the injuries. I don't know why but listening to the song the other day and my mind was what about all the sad angsty winterhawk based on this song."  
> I received this prompt based on the song 'You found me' by The Fray.

                It’s like everything is moving in slow motion, the adrenaline pumping so thick in his veins, his heart beating so loud in his chest, all he can see is red. His metal limb collides with another nameless face, the punch so heavy and precise that the guy just drops straight to the floor, his body barely twitching as he hits the concrete.

“I’ve found Clint!” Sam’s voice comes over the coms and for a brief moment it shakes Bucky out of his phase, his lovers name sounding like a breath of fresh air. “We need to get him out of here, now. He’s in a really bad state.”

“Where are you?” Bucky says without really meaning to. His mind is running over time, so there’s not much of a brain-mouth filter right now.

“Not far from you. Bay 6. Room 3. Buck, hurry.”

Bucky’s feet are moving before Sam’s even finished. There’s still hydra goons running at him, but he’s in the zone, he’s closer to the winter soldier than he is Bucky Barnes.

“Nat, cover me,” he doesn’t have to ask, because there’s already bullets shooting through the air beside him, planting themselves in the dead centre of different guy’s heads.

“Go get our Clint,” is all that Natasha says, her voice solemn. She’s the only one on the team who knows, knows exactly how much Barnes and Barton mean to each other.

“Shit-“comes over the coms next. “He’s down.” Sam sounds worried, his voice uneven.

“I’m nearly there, please hold on.” Bucky growls, tears starting to threaten his vision. And as he pushes through the last clump of hydra, and rounds the corner, he sees Sam cradling Clint in his arms, desperately trying to stem the bleeding.

And as Bucky gets closer, the thudding of his heart gets louder in his ears, a wave of emotions overwhelming him. Clint look’s dead already, beneath the oceans of crimson the archer’s skin is a horrible grey-blue colour, his once bright eyes rolling around in his head. He’s only in a pair of boxers, his whole body jerking and trembling. Bucky suspects that the gaping wound in his stomach is old and infected, inflicted at least five days ago. And despite his parade of injuries, contusions, and lacerations, it’s the horrible flowering ‘bruise’ across the extent of Clint’s chest that is worrying.

“He’s got internal bleeding, Bucky. I don’t think he’s going to surv-“ Sam looks up at the other man, tears settling in the midst of his lashes, his voice shaky.

“Sam.” Nat threatens over the coms, her own voice breaking.

“No! We can get him out of here.” Bucky’s lips are trembling, he refuses to accept this.

“We’ve cleared the entrances. We’re on our way. Any updates?” Steve’s voice intercepts their conversation, blissfully unaware of what’s unfolding.

“Steve. He’s not going to make it. By the time we’ve got him to the entrance, he’ll be dead.” Sam can barely speak, his voice not much more than a whisper.

Bucky drops to his knees, a hysterical sob shuddering through his body. Clint can’t die, not now. He reaches out his shaking flesh hand and sweeps it through Clint’s hair, the blonde tainted with red.

Sam moves away slightly to let Bucky pull the dying man into his arms, the archer’s body limp, shuddering every so often.

“Please, please, Clint. Please don’t leave me, not yet.” Bucky drops his head against the archers shoulder, the skin there cold. “You promised me that you’d always be there. You swore to me that you wouldn’t leave.”

Sam watches the pair with a bowed head, tears streaming down his cheeks. Someone is speaking over the coms, but neither man respond.

“Clint, I’m sorry I didn’t get here quicker. I told you it was a stupid idea to go on that damn mission, I fucking told you. But you said you’d be fine, you promised me that you’d come back.” Bucky sniffs and squeezes his eyes shut. “I love you, Clint.”

* * *

 

 

_“Please don’t go.” Bucky pleads, mimicking a puppy as best as he can, even pouting and whimpering._

_Clint laughs a little and proceeds to tug on his boxers, choosing to ignore his clingy lover._

_“Clint, please.” Bucky sounds more solemn this time, his expression genuinely sad. “At least let me come with you.”_

_The archer pauses and turns to look at the other man, a sad pout settled on his features._

_“I’m really sorry, B. But you don’t have the clearance. This is a Shield gig, you know I would bring you if I could.”_

_Bucky sighs and pulls the quilt up around himself, a shiver tracing up and down his spine. Clint watches the other man through the folds of darkness, the only light from the small lamp on the bedside, Bucky illuminated in the soft gold and oranges. And it’s then that Clint realises how much he wants to stay, how much he’d rather be cuddled up safe in Bucky’s arms than be in the depths of Siberia._

_The archer crawls back up the bed, still only partially clothed. Bucky watches with intense eyes and falls back against the pillows as Clint creeps up his body, hovering above him. His eyes are intense and dark, following every line and curve on Bucky’s face until he meet’s the other man’s gaze again._

_“I’ll be back, I promise,” his voice is gentle and soothing, full of reassurances._

_Bucky reaches up and fists his hands in the dog tags dangling at Clint’s neck. They’re his own tags, but Clint loves wearing them, apparently it keeps Bucky close to his heart._

_“This is a bad idea, Clint. I don’t have a good feeling about this one. Please stay,” the assassin whispers, as he pulls the other man closer._

_“You know I would if I could.” Clint says against Bucky’s lips, the following kisses lazy and soft. “I’ve gotta go,” the archer says between each one._

_“Clint.” Bucky pulls away to caress the man’s cheek with his flesh hand, taking pleasure in gently poking at his swollen lips. “Be careful.”_

_Clint chuckles past Bucky’s thumb and once again reaches down to capture his lovers lips, the next kiss needy and thick with promise._

_“I will.” Clint pulls away and starts to clamber off of the bed. Hurrying to get dressed._

_And just as he’s about to leave the room, casting one more glance at Bucky, and Lucky asleep on the side of the bed that he should still be tucked up under, he smiles._

_“I love you, Bucky.”_

_The other man smirks lazily, his eyes bright through the dark._

_“I love you too, Clint.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This physically hurt me to write. I love angst, but holy crap.


	33. Winterhawk/ NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Could I request some sort of voice kink? Like Bucky ties Clint up and talks him off and then fucks him or something? If not it's okay! I'm absolute t r a s h for these two lol"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't ever write NSFW, not really. I never feel the need to, and if I do, it's usually rather fluffy and cliche. But hey, someone requested this, and considering how I haven't really had an nsfw prompt before, I figured why not.  
> I do apologise for it being kind of punchy and short, but yeah.

Clint’s mouth is dry with anticipation, his vision obscured with a blindfold making it easier to focus on one thing. He flicks his tongue across his lips, the air thick with perspiration. And there’s a moan settled in the back of his throat, he shouldn’t feel this riled up so early, but he just can’t help it.

“Easy.” Bucky purrs in his ear, his cold metal hand running up from the base of his thigh, to the sensitive area just below his arm pit. This of course sends a fresh wave of heat shuddering up Clint’s body, almost forcing the moan out of his mouth. Bucky knows exactly what Clint wants, but first he wants to relish in the moment.

“Bucky.” Clint whimpers, his voice breathy and shaky, and despite knowing how useless it is, he jerks against his bonds a little, just to accentuate the desperation he’s feeling.

At that Bucky moves his hand back down and runs it so lightly across the curves of Clint’s bare ass, reaching down a little further to tease the man. This finally brings a moan. Clint’s wet lips parting as he groans and shudders.

“What do you want?” Bucky whispers as he takes Clint’s ass in both hands and gives it a tight squeeze, watching the back of his lovers head fall forward as he tries to hold back.

“I want you to fuck me.” Clint murmurs into the sheets, trying to regain some kind of composure.

Bucky crouches down and parts Clint’s cheeks, there’s a sadistic smirk on his face as he blows at the tight muscle there, bringing a surprised bark of pleasure out of the other man.

“Didn’t quite hear you.” Bucky sighs, his breath once again hitting Clint’s hole causing the man to recoil a little, raising his ass and moaning Bucky’s name obscenely.

“Please.” Clint pleads breathlessly, so rock hard against the sheets that he’s surprised he doesn’t cum there and then.

Bucky laughs and moves away, giving the man’s firm ass a gentle slap as he crawls back up Clint’s body.

“You want me to fuck you?” He whispers against the shell of Clint’s ear, moving to bite at the lobe.

“Yes.” Clint says weakly, struggling against his bonds and grinding his hips against the sheets to try and generate some friction.

“You want me so bad. You want me to feel how tight and hot you are. You want to feel my skin on yours, my hand wrapped around your cock as I thrust into you.”

Clint can barely hold it together, his skin all tight and tingly. All he can focus on is Bucky’s voice, his hot breath ghosting at the back of Clint’s ears and neck.

“I want to hear you moan my name so hoarse and thick, that you can barely speak the next day. And right now, I could touch you, eat you out whilst leave marks against your hips.”

Bucky’s voice is so low, so gravelly and thick with temptation, that Clint can only grunt, his breathing coming out ragged and sharp, his nostrils flaring as he tries to pull himself together. But Bucky comes closer, sensing his lovers struggle.

“I know you want to cum, Clint. Why not do it? Just let go,” the assassin’s voice is teasing and hot, once again he’s reaching out to take Clint’s earlobe in his teeth and bite at it a little.

“Jesus, Buck.” Clint’s hips start to gyrate again, as he grinds desperately at the sheets. “Please, please.”

“Oh c’mon.” Bucky reaches up to run his hands through Clint’s damp hair, prompting the man to jump a little. “Cum for me. I want to see how much you want me. Listen to me, Clint. I’ll eat you out, I’ll finger you, and then I’ll fuck you. But first, I want to see exactly how much you want me. I need you to show me.” Bucky’s voice is too much, it’s hot and wet against Clint’s neck and he can’t help the full body shudder that suddenly has him orgasming fast. He jerks and moans so loudly and obscenely, that Bucky has to take a moment to ground himself.

He sees Clint through by gently running a hand through his hair, and taking a moment to peck at his shoulders and the base of his neck, before reaching up and carefully untying the blindfold. Coming around Clint’s front to see the blinking man, his face so flushed, his lips so swollen and wet.

“Christ, Clint.” Bucky reaches down to gently pull the man into a kiss, being careful as to not obstruct the man’s bound arms.

Clint sags against Bucky’s lips, giving in to the lazy, hot kiss.


	34. Winterhawk/fake engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint: Hey Bucky you wanna be fake engaged to me for a few hours so we can go pig out on free wedding cake samples from that new bakery down the street?

“And then we have the gorgeous new ivory 8 tier cake. This stunning piece is only $900 with delivery, the icing is infused with mint vanilla, and the red velvet sponge is to die for.” Bucky’s jaw hangs open in a somewhat dumbfounded manner, he listens as the flouncy blonde woman then proceeds to drone on about how cheap her $4,000 12 tier cake is.

“I didn’t even know 12 tier cakes existed.” Bucky offers to Clint, who falters before pressing another 3 inch cut of the cake into his mouth. Bucky watches and sends Clint a pointed glare before crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, the archer seems undeterred and shrugs before stuffing more into his mouth.

“I’m pretty sure,” he says past a mouthful of sponge. “That I’ve eaten my body weight in posh cake.”

“I’m pretty sure that you’ve eaten about $16,000 worth of cake.” Bucky adds through a smirk. Barton reaches across and smacks at Bucky’s arm lightly, prompting the other man to look at his companion. And unfortunately the sight of Clint Barton with cake stained lips and crumbs nestled in his stubble prompts a laughing fit to ensue between the two men.

“Can I help you?” The blonde has abandoned the group and has decided to hone in on the pair, her perfectly painted brows arched in disapproval. “Are you actually here to choose a cake.”

Bucky wastes no time in pulling in Clint by the hip, his gaze flickering from the woman to Clint, who is putting on his best ‘heart eyes’ and Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t love how that expression looked on the other man.

“Actually, we’re just looking.” Bucky drawls, his eyes not breaking from Clint’s, who is now giggling and acting flustered. “We’ve been engaged for about seven months, it’s been a whirlwind but we’re so in love and I just want to marry this man as soon as I can. But I’m not skipping over the details, I want to make this as perfect as I possibly can. Show me your most expensive and exquisite cake.”

The woman has gone from looking mildly disgusted, to simply flabbergasted.

“Of course sir, follow me,” as the blonde turns her back, Clint leans into Bucky’s shoulder to stifle a laugh in his friend’s hoodie.

“Oh my god,” the archer whispers. “Tony is going to kill us.”

“You’ve been eating samples for forty five minutes. We may as well make our time here worth while.” Bucky shrugs. Stark won’t care too much, after all, he did drop Bucky in it.

“I knew I chose you for a reason. The best fake fiancé I could ask for.” Clint’s voice turns to syrup, his lips pulling up into a pout as he makes kissy noises at Bucky before being pushed away.

“Oh shud’ up. You only chose me because no-one else wanted to come.”

Clint steps in front of Bucky, stopping him in his tracks.

“That’s untrue, I’m actually very affronted by that accusation. I chose you because you’re more fun than the others…” Clint actually flushes red before spinning and chasing after the lady, Bucky just rolls his eyes and shrugs off the warm feeling prickling at his cheeks.

He follows dutifully behind Clint, who is now beginning to slow as the blush recedes from his cheeks.

“This is our most expensive cake,” the woman sounds very proud, and with her hands firmly at her hips and her mouth pursed into a pout, she’s looking rather boastful too.

“Wow.” Clint exclaims from his place beside the hostess. Bucky is ready to join the pair and have a laugh with the archer, but just as he notices how fixated Clint is by the cake, he also clocks the piece. It’s a rather grand five tier cake, all ivory and swirly, except for the Ruby’s and amethysts that are placed very precisely around the bottom of each tier. It’s actually hilariously ironic.

“You like it then?” The blonde chuckles pulling the two men from their thoughts. Clint is red again, but this time his eyes are wide as he looks from the lady to Bucky and then back again.

“It’s… It’s urm-“

“It’s perfect.” Bucky finishes. “How much is it?”

Clint turns back to his companion, his eyes even wider and a frown set on his brows.

“What are you doing?” the archer says under his breath, being careful not to let on. Bucky doesn’t reply and instead steps past the man giving the woman a sickly smile.

“This one is $20,000.”

Clint actually yelps from his place behind Bucky, prompting the other man to reach back and swat at the archer who now has his hands clapped over his mouth.

“We’ll take it.” Bucky’s voice is like syrup, all thick and charming. And when the woman smiles and turns to her colleagues, demanding they pack up the cake, Clint steps forwards and grabs at Bucky’s shirt pulling him close.

“What are you doing?!” he demands, his eyes nervously flickering around the room. Bucky places his flesh hand on Clint’s and gives him a soft smile.

“Oh C’mon, Stark is gonna wet himself over this. It’s going to be hilarious.”

“But-“

“Plus.” Bucky leans forward into Clint’s space, shutting the archer up. “You can’t tell me that’s just a coincidence,” he nods to the gems lining the cake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clint steps backwards again, ducking to hide the crimson on his cheeks.

“Pfft, don’t play dumb with me Barton. You chose me for more reasons other than me being the most fun.”

Clint’s head snaps up, his eyes finding Bucky’s as he flushes an even deeper shade of red.

“What?”

Bucky leans forward and before Clint even has time to filter what’s going on, their mouths are locked together, the kiss gentle and chaste, Bucky’s lips just ghosting across Clint’s before he pulls away, leaving Barton feeling all jelly like and fluffy.

“You’re a bad liar.” Bucky says past a smirk.

“Shut up.” Clint lashes out and hits at Bucky’s chest, but there’s a smile on his face. He’s glad he didn’t choose Steve to be his fake fiancé after all.


	35. Artemis Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clint is the current incarnation of the greek goddess Artemis, goddess of archery and (hunting) dogs. He knows it but keeps it on the very down low, apart from indulging in a deep love of arrows and dogs. However, he still tends to his duties as best he can and answers the occasional prayer--and when a certain former assassin gets in trouble in the ruins of a greek temple, Clint can't help but show up.

Clint wakes with a start, sweat rolling off his skin in waves. He shudders full bodied and jittery before rubbing his hands frantically across his damp face to try and shake the last of the nightmare. But still behind his burning eyelids, there’s the image of a man, trapped beneath a pile of rubble.

The archer remains still, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to will himself out of the panic stricken state, but he can hear the man’s cries in the very deepest folds of his mind. It’s then that Lucky barks, jolting the man out of his haze, the last distant cries falling away into a quiet hum.

Clint looks across the room at his dog, he’s sat in the doorway whimpering, his face falling low to the ground.

“It’s okay… I’m okay.” Clint says, he’s struggling to catch his breath and he’s still shaking, but slowly his rapid chest fall is calming. “I haven’t had one like that in a while.”

Clint once again closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and tuning into his soul stream. He latches onto the prayers of children crouched at their beds, and elderly couples linking hands at the dinner table. These are the prayers that calm him, the regular ones. There’s still a strong nagging feeling tugging at the stream, and distantly he can hear the desperate cries of a woman praying for her sons, and the sobs of a little girl laying at the side of her mother’s corpse hoping that her momma will open her eyes once more.

He wonders why his soul was burdened with Artemis. It’s been 11 years since the god first took refuge in his body, latching onto Clint’s soul with such strength that the archer, who was merely 14 at the time, blacked out.

And ever since then, he hears the prayers of the many, some close, some far. But regardless of distance, they remain in the back of his mind at all hours of the day, burdening him. In the past he has reached out to some of those who seek his help, tracking them down and giving them whatever they need, never really breaking his human persona.

But recently his dreams have been plagued with the face of a man, one that he has come to recognise. He’s been trapped for some time now, three maybe four days, and his prayers are odd. They don’t follow the normal verses, instead, this man that Clint has come to know as ‘Bucky.’ Prays that his brother, Steve, find’s happiness after his passing, and that he doesn’t dwell on Bucky’s death. He then relays story’s from his childhood into the dark of the abys he’s trapped in, as if he knows that someone is listening.

And Clint is oddly curious about the man with the handsome face, the one who speaks softly and remains calm despite his situation. Sometimes he cries, cries because he’ll never get to see his brother’s son grow up, cries because he doesn’t want those who love him to feel pain, all the while remaining completely selfless. Never once pleading for his life.

Clint gets out of bed and goes about his morning routine, the man- Bucky’s face still branded in the back of his mind. He drinks his coffee absently, not paying much attention to Lucky, who is obviously trying to hijack his soul stream. That’s one of the best and worst things about housing Artemis, he has a rather strange connection with dogs.

“Shud’ up you. There’s still some left over pizza on your bowl, go bother that instead of me.”

Lucky barks unhappily, his face contorting into some kind of frown. Clint rolls his eyes and flutters his hand at the dog, ushering him away.

His eyes travel across the room to where his bow is rested on the coffee table, he knows that he should probably answer some prayers, not go on some kind of suicide mission to save the guy with the pretty face, but he just can’t shake the feeling that has settled deep in his bones.

And that’s exactly how hours later, he finds himself stood in the ruins of an ancient temple digging through rubble.

“What kind of idiot comes to these temple’s anyway? They’re not exactly stable, nor open to the public.” Clint feels kind of bitter about the whole situation, angry that the man whom obviously had people that cared, was being so reckless. “Urgh.”

His hands hurt after an hour of shifting rubble, and his heart is heavy. The man has fallen silent in his mind, and Clint is worried that he may have left this too late.

“Honestly though, this is just ridiculous. What idiot comes all the way out here anyway?”

“Someone who has a job to do. Now will shud’ up and get me out of here before I come up there and kick your ass.”

Clint flails and almost falls backwards, and through the tiny hole that he’s created in the debris he can see the shimmering eyes of a man. Bucky.

“You haven’t actually answered my question though. What the hell are you doing out here?”

Bucky glares through the narrow slit in the rocks and folds his arms across his chest, obviously trying to look more intimidating.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? It’s confidential.”

Clint huffs a laugh and pauses his actions, glaring back through the hole with a cocky smirk.

“Oh, so you were happy to tell me your life story, but you won’t tell me why you’re here.”

Bucky falls silent, and Clint’s heart is thumping in his chest, he can practically feel Artemis face palming in response to his idiotic confession. He probably sounds like a mad man.

“Who are you?” Bucky asks quietly. The opening is getting bigger now, and Clint can see that Bucky looks tired and hungry, his face stained with dry blood.

“I’m Clint, and you’re Bucky Barnes. Your brother is Steve, he’s married to a man called Tony, and they have a kid called Carter.”

Bucky laughs a little before it dissolves into a cough, his body jerking against the rock wall.

“He’s not my actual brother, but I guess they never told you that.”

Clint falters and looks through to meet the other man’s eyes.

“Who are _they_?”

Bucky frowns before reaching up to wipe at his brow, a sigh falling from his lips.

“Don’t think I don’t know. They sent you to terminate me. I refused the mission.”

And suddenly things start to make sense to Clint, he thinks about where they are and Bucky’s pleas, his prayers to keep his friend and his family safe.

“You’re an assassin.”

Bucky nods and smirks a little.

“But you already knew that,” he says bitterly.

Clint feels angry, his skin burning with the idea of someone coming to kill Barnes for the sake of the man staying quiet. It becomes obvious that this isn’t a life the other man wanted. So very carefully Clint climbs into the rubble, falling down the minor incline and dropping to the floor with a low thud.

He can see Bucky now, can appreciate the sharp curves of his features, and the wicked smirk sat on his lips.

“You gon’ kill me now?” There’s a Brooklyn accent twisting the edge of his words, bringing a fond smile out of the god.

“No. Let me show you something.”

Clint approaches the other man, and as he gets closer, Bucky is beaming.

“Well at least the last thing I’ll see is your pretty face.” Clint nearly stops there and then, his skin is on fire and he knows his cheeks are probably glowing. It’s been a long time since someone had that effect on him. “What’s up, doll? Having second thoughts?” Bucky drawls.

Clint drops to his knees in front of Bucky and watches him carefully, the other man’s smile falling from his features.

“Okay. I’m going to show you something, you’re not allowed to freak out.”

“Trust me, nothing freaks me out anymor-“

Clint cuts off Bucky by catching his lips, his hands coming up to clasp the man’s rough face firmly. He kisses the mortal with as much conviction as possible, channelling into the man’s soul and passing on his own knowledge, opening him up to what Clint has already seen, streaming the voices in his head.

He breaks away with a sharp intake of breath, their connection quickly snapping with all the information pinging back and hitting Clint square in the chest, almost knocking him off of his feet.

Bucky’s breathing is rapid and ragged, his eyes wild, his one flesh hand shaking a little.

“Holy shit…” he exclaims before looking at Clint, and then at his hands. “That was like, a lot to take in.”

Clint nods and bows his head a little, he can feel Artemis shouting and screaming, angry that he’s shared that much information with a stranger.

 _“That’s something we reserve for soulmates, not for other mortals, let alone a man you don’t know!”_ She shouts, her usually gentle voice soothing and smooth, now sharp and angry.

Clint clutches his hands to his chest and tries to settle the good, relaying messages to her that Bucky now knows everything about Clint, and in return, Clint now knows everything about Bucky. The archer is surprised when a hand lands on his, and he looks up to see Bucky, all smirky and smiley again.

“You okay there, _Clint_?” The archer nods, obviously not convincing enough. “Hey, thanks for coming out here and getting me, apparently it’s not something you do often.”

“How are you so calm about this whole situation?” Clint frowns, looking to the man.

Bucky just shrugs.

“I guess we’re in this together now, Pal. I’ve got a debt to pay.”

“No you don’t.”

“But I want to.”

Clint smiles a little and meet’s Bucky’s eyes again.

“Thanks.”


	36. Winterhawk/Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A while ago one of my friends on tumblr requested a Romeo/Juliet+ elevator scenario, but this is what happened instead.

Bucky could count down the worst three moments of his life, all of which were vivid and bright, unlike the dark, decrepit memories that sometimes overcame him through the folds of his nightmares, drowning him in their wicked embrace.

His number one, despite what others might believe, was not falling from the train into the jaws of death. His number one worst moment that he could remember, was fishing Steve from the water following the events of DC. His mind overrun with the memories and emotions of a man he didn’t even know, and yet he held the name and the face of one _James Buchanan Barnes._ After that painful day, the weight of Steve being dragged along the ground by a hand, his hand, _James’_ hand. Things were never the same.

He still has nightmares, still sees Steve flailing and hitting the water like a pebble, sinking without resurface.

That was his number one moment at least, right up until present day. Right up until this absolutely awful situation.

“What the fuck do you mean, four hours!?” Bucky hisses into the enclosed space, his limbs becoming increasingly more tense and wound up with each second that ticks by. “You’re Tony Stark. You should be able to save us from an elevator!”

_“Look terminator, your elevator is wedged 6 meters between each floor. I’m not cutting a hole in the wall just to save you two.”_

“I’m sorry, but why can’t Steve just prize the doors open from the floor above us, jump down and save us? Surely that’s not too much to ask.” Bucky is infuriated, he’s not only feeling very claustrophobic, but he’s also stuck with-

“Barnes has a point.” Clint says absently, he’s now slouched against the wall of the elevator, twiddling with the tip of an arrow.

He’s also stuck with none other than Clint Barton.

Now as Avengers go, Clint is alright. In fact, he’s probably Bucky’s favourite. The man is relaxed and easy going, with a dry sense of humour to match. And he’s one of the only residents that could give Bucky a run for his money when it comes to sharp shooting.

But it’s no secret amongst the others that Bucky fancies the absolute pants off of his companion, something that Barnes has managed to keep contained exclusively to everyone that isn’t Clint. And Clint’s recent endeavours to further their friendship, to true bestie level, has sent Bucky crawling, doing anything to avoid the man.

And now he’s lucky enough to be stuck in an elevator with just him for four hours, _minimum_.

 _“What part of, **this tower is supervillain and by default super hero proof** , don’t you understand?” _Bucky can just imagine the face the billionaire is pulling, all cocky and annoying like.

“I think I found a kink in the armour, pal. Next time, maybe you should consider our welfare before Rogers proofing the entire place,” the assassin drawls, his eyes rolling as he finally gives in and falls to the ground, his body collapsing in an exhausted sigh.

_“Right, I’m going to take Friday offline for a bit. I’ll give you two hourly updates, but I can’t do any more than that I’m afraid.”_

There’s a short beeping sound before the elevator falls completely silent, the music stopping and the air conditioning filling the void with a low humming sound.

“Well isn’t this just fantastic.” Bucky huffs, his hands coming up to cradle his chin. From the corner of his eye he can see that Clint has sunk lower, he’s finding distraction with the arrow, his eyes never leaving the object. “Barton, if you’re gonna be messing with that arrow for the full four hours, I may as well just borrow it to impale myself in the hopes of bleeding out.”

Clint’s eyes flicker up briefly before he snaps them back down, his shoulders coming up in a shrug. Bucky watches his companion with a frown, Clint is being very… Un-Clint like.

“Hey, you okay?”

The archer just huffs and drops the arrow, shaking his hands like it scolded him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky chuckles a little and pushes back on his palms so that he’s slouched beside Clint, shoulder to shoulder. He nudges the other man gently and wills him to talk. He’s worried.

Clint peers over at Bucky, surveying him so carefully. His mouth opens for a second, a stuttering sound falling from his lips before its snapped shut again, his features pulling into a tight frown.

“Hey, Clint.” Bucky nudges him a little lighter, concern bubbling in his chest. He’s starting to think that there might be reason as to why the pair have ended up in this situation.

Clint swivels sharply, his body now fully facing the other man.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks sharply, his eyes wide and doe like. Bucky almost chokes, he lets out a noise not far off from that, his jaw crunching as his whole body goes rigid. Clint is still watching him, the frown heavy on his face. “Well?”

“No.” Bucky says, probably a little too quickly. The archer raises an eyebrow and huffs, but his eyes fall to the floor, and Bucky can see the way his face falls, his eyes hollow with sadness. “I mean… It’s complicated.”

Clint snorts and looks back up, his eyes now shimmering with what Bucky can only assume are tears. There’s sharp stab straight to his chest, his heart swelling because he’s put those tears there. Bloody hell, it’s not even been two minutes and already it’s horribly awkward.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.” Clint’s voice wavers a little as he swivels back around, his back meeting the wall with a solid thump.

“Clint-“

“Don’t bother.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything further, he bites the inside of his cheeks so hard that the metallic taste of blood floods his taste buds, grounding him a little and stopping him from being a complete idiot.

Around ten minutes tick by before Clint huffs again, his whole body solid and tense.

“You know, I kind of considered us to be close. Y’know?” he shrugs, his eyes looking all raw and red. Did he cry?! Did Bucky miss that!? “I feel like I can talk to you. Like genuinely, I never find myself worried or judged when I come to you. There’s like this calm that just comes over me when I’m with you. I never have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

Bucky feels like he’s floating, his head spinning so fast. That’s exactly how he feels around the archer, like the whole world could fall away and Clint would still be there, pinning him to the ground with a strong hand clasped tightly in his own.There’s a buzzing sensation in the back of skull, a dull kind of anticipation.

“Guess I was wrong. Everyone gets fed up eventually,” he says in a sigh, and Bucky notes how tired he sounds.

“I’m not fed up of you, Clint.”

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me properly in two weeks, huh?”

Bucky splutters a little, his eyes once again finding Clint’s as he tries to shake the horrible floating feeling consuming his being.

“I guess I just get fed up of being left behind. This team is the closest thing to family that I’ve got, and I can’t let anything get in the way of that. I can’t get left behind again, Barnes,” he shifts uncomfortably and swallows thickly. “If I’ve got beef with you, I’ve got beef with Rogers, and by default, beef with Sam. I need to know if I’m doing something wrong. Please.”

Bucky looks at the other man, he’s straightened up a little, his eyes narrowed in some kind of renewed determination. Clint would die for the people on this team, Bucky has always known that, and he hadn’t really considered that maybe he was planting a wedge between the archer and his teammates. All because he can’t get over a crush.

Bucky sighs and slouches a little, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath. Now or never.

“Clint. You’re not doing anything wrong, quite the opposite. I’ve just never really been good at talking.” Bucky opens his eyes, Clint is watching him carefully looking somewhat concerned.

“You can always talk to me, Buck.”

“I know, I know. But this is different.”

Clint shrugs a little and wiggles a smidge closer to the other man, their gaze breaking as Bucky ducks his head.

“How so?” Clint’s hand is on Bucky’s shoulder, his touch bringing a new wave of nausea over the assassin.

“So back in the forties there was this kind of stigma around men being emotional, ya’ know, talking about their feelings and stuff. And for someone who wasn’t that wasn’t considered to be ‘normal’ back in those days, it was considerably more difficult.” Bucky watches Clint carefully for a reaction, but upon finding no gasp or backlash, he continues. “I don’t remember too much of that specific time, but I can vaguely remember dingy bars with no security, ones that had strict curfews and next to no hygiene policies. I found it scary, talking to people even there. I knew they were all the same as me, but being a sergeant and having a reputation to keep, I found it very hard to open up and let loose.”

“Barnes… Are we talking about a gay bar?” Clint’s voice is tinged with humour, a small smile appearing on his lips. And Bucky feels as though he should be offended at Clint’s amusement, but he’s learnt to laugh at this kind of thing now, and instead nods meekly.

“It’s important that you know that I was in denial for a really long time, and just as I was really beginning to accept myself, I lost it all.” Bucky can feel tears pricking at his lashes, and he has to take in a sharp breath to hold them off. “And to come back, resurface to a future where Steve and Tony can hold hands in public and not get beaten to a pulp. Where girls and boys can marry and be with whoever the hell they want… It was weird and new. I had a chance to really explore myself to depth I hadn’t been able to before.”

“Okay, I don’t want to interrupt you or anything, but where is this going?” Clint chuckles nervously, his face flushing a little red.

“Shut up you goon, I’m not discussing _that_.”

“Good, cause I’m happy for you to talk to me an’ all, but I can’t promise I can take that sort of thing seriously-“

“Anyways. Back to the point. I come back to this world, to find Steve with Howard’s son, and they kiss and hug and hold hands. And I kind of feel this longing deep in my bones for something like that, and there’s months and months’ worth of a void in my soul, something missing…” Bucky shrugs off Clint’s hand and stares at the floor of the elevator, his words catching in the back of his throat, a full body shudder moving through him. “And then I met you.”

Clint can’t seem to comprehend it at first, and then slowly his face changes, his cheeks beginning to flush and his eyes finding anything to look at that isn’t Bucky. This prompts a tired sigh from the other man, tears threatening his vision.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been running away, Clint. But you were getting closer and I couldn’t keep on hiding how I felt. I had to push away, to save us both getting hurt.”

“You were saying earlier…” Clint’s voice is quiet and solemn, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, something he does when he’s feeling awkward. “About a world where people can marry whoever they like, and couples can hold hands in public…”

Bucky sucks it up and straightens up, his flesh hand coming to catch some tears sitting on the edge of his lashes. Clint still doesn’t look at him though, not straight away at least.

“What about a world where I can kiss you?” Clint’s looking at him now, a furious blush on his cheeks, but his face completely straight and serious, undeterred.

“What?” Bucky stammers a little, his heart thudding so loudly in his chest that he can barely hear anything over it.

Clint doesn’t answer, he just shuffles forwards so that he’s further into Bucky’s space, and reaches forward to catch Bucky’s cheek, his hand shaking as he does.

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

Clint’s voice sounds distant, like he’s stood at the end of a valley. And Bucky’s mouth is so dry that he can’t reply, instead just nodding. And then Clint’s hot lips are on his own. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced, he’s kissed men before obviously, but never like this, never so open and real. His heart is racing and his cheeks burning, and Clint’s dry lips on his own brings a sort of hiccup out of the assassin, something that Clint chuckles at before pulling away, his face relaxed and open.

“Smooth, Barnes-“

Bucky lunges back into the kiss, his heart is still thudding away, but his brain is slowly starting to defrost, reminding him that this is real life.

This time there’s a sense of urgency, the kiss is sloppy and hot, neither man really knowing what to do with their hands. So they end up in a tangle on the floor, Bucky taking in as much of Clint as he possibly can before he has to pull away to take a breath.

“I’ve waited months for that.” Clint gasps as he stares up at Bucky, his lips swollen and red, his pupils blown wide.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bucky whispers before collapsing down next to the archer, his body still shaking from the adrenaline.

“Didn’t wanna lose a friend.” Clint reaches across and takes Bucky’s hand in his own, immediately relaxing the other man. Bucky just laughs and cocks his head to look at Clint.

“We’ve got another three and a half hours stuck in here… Any ideas for how to burn some time?”

Clint cackles and rolls over so that his body is slung across Bucky’s chest, his face so close to Bucky’s.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.”


	37. Winterhawk/ Fluffy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In need of fluff, so some domestic winterhawk with try hard disaster!Clint we can't help but love?:)

Today has been a long day. That term is usually somewhat exaggerated, but for the day that Bucky has had, it’s a pretty well applied.

The assassin trawls through the lobby of the tower, stripping various items of tact gear and clothing as he goes. His vest is the first thing to come off, he all but rips it from his body, discarding it on the ground with a careless disregard for the state of the room. Bucky is pretty sure that if Dum-E 2.0 could give him a dirty look, it certainly would be. The little portable version of Tony’s previous creation picks up the jacket and makes a rather indignant sound, to which Bucky responds with a middle finger.

He falls into the elevator, his back hitting the wall with a heavy _thud_ , and it would have been the perfect time to catch his breath and enjoy the silence… Had Stark not put _American Pie_ by Don McLean on repeat. He’d done it to piss off Steve, but after 5 weeks it’s certainly proved to grind on everyone’s nerves, even Natasha’s.

The man sighs and reaches up a hand to scrub at the creases settling between his eyebrows. It’s been a really long day. When Barnes left the house this morning he was suited up to assist T’Challa in the interrogation of a couple of A.I.M guys, he was just there to y’know, shake things up. However, he was incredibly overwhelmed and very unprepared for the full scale attack that A.I.M decided to kick off at T’Challa’s lovely little abandoned warehouse on the east side, and despite managing to clear up that mess pretty quickly, upon leaving Barnes was somehow picked up by none other than Mr Wade Wilson and his boyfriend-not boyfriend- Peter Parker…. After three hours of kicking around with those two, Bucky was exhausted.

And to top his day off with a cherry, on his second attempt to make his way home, he witnessed a bank robbery, and of course he had to intervene.

He sighs again, just as the elevator doors ping open to announce his arrival on the communal floor. He groans before peeking through his metal hand, and in a rather cruel taunt, the floor is alive with almost all residents of the tower.

“Barnes! I’ve been looking for you!” Tony leaps from his stool at the breakfast bar, a mischievous grin sewn onto his face.

“Not now, Stark. I only came up here to grab some Advil, and then I’m going to bed.” Bucky drags himself across the floor, purposely moving out of Tony’s beeline.

“No, you can’t away that easily. Your scheduled maintenance is exactly… Right now.” Tony swings back around to grab at Bucky’s shirt, his hand just falling short.

“Leave him alone, Tony.” Steve looks up from where he’s sprawled on the sofa reading a book, and the minute he spots Bucky’s shuffling towards the kitchen, there’s a frown on his features. “You alright Buck?”

And for some reason Bucky feels the overwhelming urge to just cry. His day has been so long, and he’s so fucking tired, and honestly all he wants to do is to just curl up in a ball and stay in bed for six weeks. But he’s been in the tower for all of five minutes and already the world is too loud and obnoxious for him to deal with.

He stops just beside the breakfast bar, a migraine banging against the walls of his mind, and almost distantly through the pain he can hear Tony and Steve arguing, and behind that he can hear Bruce talking lowly to Wanda, and be-

“Hey,” he hasn’t really re-surfaced from his train of thought before there are strong, firm arms encapsulating him in a hug. Bucky flutters back to reality and sighs heavily against the material of Clint’s shirt, slumping in his arms. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, taking in the scent that is oh-so Clint Barton, all coffee like and vanillary.

“Hey.” Bucky croaks, his muscles relaxing as Clint hauls of his boyfriends weight in the hug.

“I’ve got advil, pizza, and Dog Cops downstairs. Shall we blow this joint?” Clint laughs as his breath ghosts around Bucky’s neck.

Bucky pulls back with a smile, his eyes suddenly feeling very heavy, but his body overall relaxed. He looks at Clint with his charming smile and gleaming eyes, and is suddenly very thankful that he’s home- at the tower. Because wherever Clint is, is home.

“Let’s go.” Bucky whispers, his hand reaching out to grab Clint’s.


	38. Winterhawk/ Nightmares ft Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> typos suck.

_Bucky jolts awake to the distinct sound of nearby gunfire, his heart is already pounding in his chest the sound bouncing off the walls of his mind, he quickly goes into override scrabbling against the dirt to grab at his rifle._

_“Relax, they’re at least 15 miles out. We’ve still got twenty or so before we’ve got to move.” Falsworth says, his voice clipped and rough as he takes another drag from the cigarette cocked between his fingers._

_“We should get the others up then.” Bucky bites past the nerves sat at the back of his throat. He manages to pass off a shiver as the cold, not the unsettled feeling fluttering around in the pit of his stomach._

_“Dum Dum is already awake, gone to have a piss. The others need sleep, especially your boy.” Falsworth nods to Steve who is curled up tightly against his rucksack and a wave of reassurance washes over Bucky as he remembers Steve is there, less than a few meters away._

_“You’re right, sorry I just-“ Bucky almost misses the way that Falsworth crumples, the ringing of a gunshot still piercing the silence of the dawn and startling the soldier so much so that for a second he can only watch as his teammate falls to the floor groaning in pain. He observes for a second before his brain starts working again, and it’s not long before he’s screaming for the others to find cover. “SNIPER! GET BEHIND THE GEAR!” Bucky’s voice wavers as he’s shouting, the others startle awake and scrabble around to find some kind of cover._

_Steve shoots his friend a look as he leaps to cover Falsworth, the shield doing its job as bullets continue to ricochet against the metal._

_“Sarge, I’ll cover you!” Dum Dum screams to Bucky as he races across the field, his back already turned as he sends fire back in the direction of the sniper._

_Bucky’s hands shake as he struggles to load his rifle quickly, the run in with Hydra has left him not only mentally scarred, but with a constant shake in his left hand. He takes a moment to breath, trying his hardest to calm himself down._

“Bucky?”

Bucky lashes out, swinging his left arm around only to collide with something solid.

“Get away from me!” The soldiers screams desperately.

“Buck, c’mon! You’re having a bad dream!”

Bucky wakes, and this time he’s greeted with the warmth or Stark tower, and the bloodied face of his lover. His heart rate doesn’t settle though because Jesus Christ, Clint is covered in blood.

“Clint?” Bucky croaks, his voice thick and wobbly. The archer sends the other man a fond smile, despite the blood seeping past his lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Bucky jerks a little when he sees blood on the fingers of his metal hand, it takes him only a moment to realise what’s happened.

“Clint, Jesus Christ, did I hit you?”

Clint laughs, obviously trying to hide the discomfort he’s in.

“Yeah, but its fine. I’ve had worse.”

Dread comes flooding through Bucky’s entire body, he’d been waiting for this to happen. Since him and Clint got together a few months ago, it was only a matter of time before he’d end up hurting him.

“Fuck. This isn’t okay.” Bucky moves to run his fingers through his sweaty hair, his movement frantic and erratic and it’s not long before Clint is up in his face, cupping Bucky’s face with cool, calloused hands.

“Buck, you gotta’ look at me.”

Bucky’s head drops as the tears start to fall, shame cursing through his entire body.

“Bucky.” Clint jerks the man’s head up, their gaze meeting. “No. Stop it right now. I’m fine, you’re fine. Everything is fine.”

“The broken nose says different.” Bucky croaks, tears clouding his vision.

Clint pulls his lover against his bare chest, Bucky reluctantly going.

“Buck. This is okay. I got way too close, okay? We agreed on terms to never get too close when nightmares like that happen, and I did. Mistakes happen, but we live and we learn.”

“But what if it’d done worse?”

Clint pulls Bucky back and holds his face firm in his hands, his features screwing up into a determined and tight look.

“Listen to me, Barnes. I might not have some super serum, but I can defend myself. You’d never hurt me anyway, I know you wouldn’t.” Clint smiles a little, his eyes pitiful and sad. “Please don’t let this change anything, this is the first nightmare you’ve had in months. It happens.”

Clint leans forward to press a chaste and gentle peck to Bucky’s lips, the heat of Clint counteracting the taste of copper. His lips are gone almost as quickly as they came, and it’s not long before Bucky finds himself wrapped up in the blankets again, Clint pressed warmly against his side.

“Aren’t you going to clean up your face?” Bucky whispers into the darkness, his voice carrying a note of humour. Clint laughs into Bucky’s shoulder, his hair tickling the sensitive skin of Bucky’s neck.

“Nah, it can wait. I’d rather be here.”


	39. Winterhawk/ high school AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a crush on the new (deaf) boy in class high school AU ;)

Bucky flips open his notepad with an exasperated sigh, he’d stayed out till gone 3am last night. Steve had insisted that his best friend join him for a party at Stark’s house, and because Bucky knows exactly how much of an enormous crush Steve is withholding, and how humiliatingly awkward his best friend can be, Bucky had no choice but to go.

But that does leave him in this haggard predicament in which he can barely keep his eyes open, let alone focus on his Math class. He rolls his head trying to ease the tension sat in his shoulders, but given how this is his least favourite subject on the best of days, he knows that the next hour and a half is going to be sheer torture.

However, the one good thing about today’s lesson is that Professor Munroe is covering Ms Grey, and despite still having a strict regime and a temper to match, Professor Munroe is much easier to speak to, she’s more open to helping students out and explains things in a way that everyone can understand. Sometimes Ms Grey gets carried away and ends up talking complete nonsense.

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, Ms Grey cannot attend this lesson today, however given how close you are to your finals, we’re just going to be running through some short test papers and then attempting peer marking.” The Professors face is soft and calm, contrasting the internal breakdown Bucky is experiencing.

He glances around the room, trying his best to hide his nerves by keeping a neutral expression, one Steve has come to call Bucky’s bitch face. He notes Brock Rumlow and his table of clowns and is thankful he’s sat on the opposite side of the room to that disgusting excuse for a human being.

He then turns to find Frank, Matt, and Foggy watching as the trio argue between themselves, Frank looking as done with the pair as ever, and Bucky kind of longs to be in that trio knowing how intelligent and remarkable the three are. He shuffles nervously, disguising it as he slumps back in his seat slowly sinking hoping that he may just disappear.

And then Bucky’s day takes a turn for the interesting. There’s a light tapping at the door before a newbie steps in, one that has Bucky pulling himself up from the chair again. The new kid is dressed in a pair of ripped black skinny jeans; a stained pastel purple shirt, some absolutely battered white converse, a scratched up old leather jacket, and has a dark purple backpack thrown across his shoulder.

“Barton, I hope you have a decent excuse for being late to this class as well? I moved you because you told me that ‘a 1pm class was too late in the day, you needed one that was earlier to give you incentive to get out of bed.’”

Bucky snorts at that, earning himself a sharp glare from Munroe and a shy smile from _Barton_. Bucky wonders if this is the Barton that Tasha sometimes mentions, the one whom is constantly staying over her house and that everyone thinks is sleeping with her.

He cocks his head a little to look at the boy, and to be honest he’s not exactly sure he’s Nat’s type. He’s got a fair bit of muscle going on in his arms, that much is clear from the way his biceps bulge a little causing veins to make an appearance, but he’s kind of messy. The guy’s dirty blonde hair is fluffy and protruding, obviously untouched; his jeans are definitely not meant to be as ripped as they are, and his cheeks and chin remain unshaved, littered with at least two weeks’ worth of stubble.

And yet something at the guy is endearing and cute, the way that he’s awkwardly rubbing one hand against the back of his neck, giving Munroe puppy dog eyes as he blushes slightly. And his eyes are a striking kind of grey, sweeping lashes casting dark shadows across the inclines of his cheeks.

And okay, he’s definitely got a pretty face despite the obvious signs of a bruise in the process of healing, and a few scratches and scars here and there, but Bucky kind of really digs that sort of ‘just rolled out of bed’ thing that this guy has going on.

“There’s a chair free on the table with James.” Munroe is pointing at him, and immediately Barton’s gaze is on him, a bold smirk making its way onto his features. “You’ve got five minutes to sort yourself out before we start the mock.”

Barton nods and makes his way over to Bucky, dodging desks and chairs as he does. Bucky suddenly feels very uneasy his face flushing with heat as he tries his best to look anywhere but at the blonde.

“What crawled up her ass this morning?” Barton chuckles as he throws himself on the chair besides Bucky and begins unpacking his stationary.

“Probably something to do with turning up fifteen minutes after lesson has officially started, and since I haven’t seen you before I’m gathering this is your first time in this class as well.” Bucky’s voice holds firmer than it actually is.

Barton turns to look as his companion, beaming at him as he tries to hold back laughter.

“Nat warned about you, told me you’re a sarcastic motherfucker,” Barton extends his hand, still holding a warm smile in place, “I’m Clint, Clint Barton.”

With Bucky’s suspicions confirmed he swallows past the nerves and extends his metal hand to Clint, the one that Tony’s dad had supplied him with.

“James, but that name is reserved exclusively for my mum. I’m Bucky.” Clint doesn’t even bat and eyelash when he shakes the hand, his gaze remains firmly on Bucky’s as his smile grows a little.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Bucky. Natasha has been nagging me to talk to you for ages. Tells me that it’ll be good for me to get some like-minded friends.”

“Like-minded?”

Clint laughs whilst yanking his purple notepad from the bag, the pages all but falling out, “someone as sarcastic and socially awkward as I am. Her quote not mine.”

Bucky snorts and chuckles, all the while trying to ignore how much his heart rate has picked up at the prospect of Clint Barton.

“Socially awkward, no idea what she’s talking about.”

Clint stops and looks at Bucky again, that cheeky grin still donning his features, “funny, that’s exactly what I said.”

Clint turns back to unpacking his bag, and it’s only then that Bucky notes the lilac hearing aids nestled in his ears, and for some reason a wave of reassurance washes over him. So that’s why Clint didn’t give a shit about his arm, and for the first time during Math class, Bucky finds himself genuinely smiling.

“Hey, Clint,” he nudges the man with his elbow, earning himself a sideward glance. “What are you doing after class? Fancy heading over to the Starbucks on campus? I’m definitely going to need some caffeine after this bore of a lesson.”

Clint smirks and glances up at Munroe before looking back to Bucky.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	40. Winterhawk/Roadtrip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this bad boy is called Set Me Free, it's derived from two separate prompts that I got, one asking for a roadtrip and the other for Clint to take Bucky on a tour of the 21st century.  
> As per usual, please excuse any typos and mistakes, my stories remain Un-Beta'd.  
> Thanks for the comments and kudos guys,  
> Sophie  
> xx

Bucky inhales slowly, his eyes closing as the bitter wave of smoke washes through his body and eases the tension sitting in his shoulders. He takes a moment to appreciate how relaxed he feels with the wind in his hair and the warm sunshine beating down on his face. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this free and calm, so much so that it feels almost unreal.

“I know we fight aliens, crazy Nazi scientists, and slime monsters for a living, but they’re going to be the thing that kills you.”

A smirk finds its way onto Bucky’s lips as he squints one eye open to look at Clint. The other man has the majority of his focus fixed on the road, the reflection of the sun dipping over the horizon sends beams bouncing from his sunglasses, but despite this Bucky can still see the grin sat firmly the archer’s features.

“Well if these aren’t the death of me, you sure as hell will be.” Bucky swings his legs up onto the dashboard, crossing his feet and propping his head back against the headrest. He takes another drag from the cigarette before leaning forward a little to blow the smoke out of the open window, his eyes briefly scanning the endless miles of Nevada desert as he does. “So where are we heading next? You’ve successfully managed to drag me around Disney World, Santa Fe, and shown me the Golden Gate Bridge, which by the way, I’ve seen before.”

Clint takes a moment to look down his sunglasses at Bucky, his eyebrows cocked into a somewhat disappointed expression.

“No, Buck. You were alive when it was constructed, big difference.”

The assassin snorts and leans forward again to flick the fag butt out of the window, his eyes then move to meet Clint’s as he gives him a confident and cocksure smirk.

“Nah, it’s overrated.” The archer huffs a little in response but there’s a smile on his lips. Bucky takes a moment to appreciate the way that Clint’s tanned skin glows in the golden light flooding the mustang, and how he chews on his lips as he returns his focus to the road.

The two have already been on quite the journey, and if someone had told Bucky five days ago that he was going to be forced out of bed at 1am, and crammed into a tiny car that he would end up sharing for upwards of four days, he’d of told them to go fuck themselves, but somehow Clint has managed it, and Bucky’s actually had a good time. Sure it’s been tedious at times, but Clint is one of his favourite people to spend time with. The archer is playful and humorous, and despite what some may think, he’s also very patient and kind.

But Bucky is starting to think that this trip wasn’t just to get him out of the tower for a week or so, but also for Clint to be able to have some time away as well. The man has watched on as his companion has grown less and less tense, the dark circles shrouding his eyes slowly receding as the days have gone by, and now Bucky is beginning to see the difference between the walls Clint has built, and the real man behind Hawkeye.

The assassin indulges in making the other man laugh, watching as his face lights up with a smile or a laugh. It settles something in Bucky when he sees Clint happy, because he really likes Barton and if anyone deserves a break from the hustle and bustle of everything, it’s him.

“You never answered me. Where are we going next?” Bucky pushes, his voice low and soft, reflecting his mood.

“Well,” Clint leans forward against the steering wheel and plays at staring off into the horizon. “We can carry on and head to the strip, I’ve got some connections there, can get us a good room and some decent club entries. Or we can circle back home but take the scenic route through Montana, maybe stop of at one of the reserves, see us some pretty stuff and then grab some food and be on our way.”

Bucky contemplates this, nerves juddering at his insides when he thinks about the concept of crowded casinos and clubs, but at the same time it’s been so long since he’d been drunk and able to have a good time.

“Can’t we do both?” he utters. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

Clint peers over at Bucky, his expression open and soft, and for some reason Bucky feels vulnerable and conscious, like Clint is scrutinising him, even though he knows that’s not true. But all fear leaks from his body when a delicate smile pulls itself onto the archers face.

“Don’t see why we can’t do both.”

And that’s how Bucky finds himself jammed into a sweaty club, beer clasped so tightly in his flesh hand that it feels like the glass could smash at any moment.

“Buck, you need to relax.” Clint swoops into Bucky’s side fresh drink in hand, and the man can’t help but laugh at how the archer looks. Clint had insisted on putting swoops of glittery purple ‘war-paint’ under his eyes, his bottoms lashes speckled with the stuff. “As soon as I’ve finished this we’re dancing.

“Clint, C’mon. No-“

The blonde gulps his drink before sending Bucky a pointed look, the strobe lights accentuating every curve and crevice of the man’s face. Bucky swallows thickly as his eyes drop to eye Clint’s outfit. He’s wearing skin tight black jeans with tears in the knees; they’re paired with some wrecked old doctor martens, a tattered black AC/DC shirt, and a leather jacket. It’s very different for one Clint Barton who wears predominantly jeans and the same purple shirt.

Bucky is knocked from his thoughts by the feeling of Clint’s hand catching in his, dragging him out to the crowded dance floor, he’s internally kicking himself for thinking he’d be able to handle a club especially as its apparently UV night at this particular one. He’s just about to ask Clint if they can leave when the archer spins, the smile on his lips so wide and genuine that it nearly stops Bucky in his steps, his heart thudding so fast and loud at the sight of the other man.

“I love this song.” Clint giggles as leans into Bucky’s space to talk against his ear sending shivers through the assassin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.” Bucky shouts over the music, for which he’s actually thankful for, his voice definitely shaking from the Clint Barton proximity alert.

“What!? No way! It’s by Coldplay, called Charlie Brown.” Clint pulls away from Bucky and starts spinning in circles and waving his arms around, and in any normal situation it would definitely look ridiculous, but the strobe lights are so rapid and bright that Clint is moving in slow motion, his movements fluent and effortless, so much so that Bucky is unable to withdraw his gaze completely infatuated with the man in front of him.

Clint stops and spreads his arms open wide, singing to Bucky in an overdramatic fashion sending waves of laughter through the man.

“ _In my scarecrow dreams_

_When they smashed my heart into smithereens_

_Be a bright red rose come bursting the concrete_

_Be the cartoon heart.”_ The archer grabs the man pulling him fully into the crowd. Bucky feels odd. The lights; the feeling of the base pounding in his chest, and Clint wildly laughing as he spins into one of Bucky’s open arms, sending a refreshing blast of energy and happiness through his being.

He laughs almost hysterically as he spins Clint under his arm, all cliché and ridiculous. Barton being the complete tragedy that he is falls over his own foot and lands on Bucky, both hands braced against his chest as he peers up at his friend giggling wildly, completely out of breath with blown pupils and red cheeks.

“I love this song.” Clint insists, his breath tickling Bucky’s neck.

“So you said.” Bucky chuckles, his gaze never leaving Clint’s, even as the song slowly eases away, the lights becoming scattered with dark blues and purples. He wants to kiss Barton, but the opportunity is gone as fast as it comes, Clint pulls himself away still laughing and tugs Bucky back towards the bar.

“I need more alcohol.”

Bucky wakes the next morning in their plush penthouse suite, his eyes are heavy with sleep and his stomach is swirling and growling with last night’s alcohol intake. He can’t remember the last time he had a hangover, even if this can barely be called one.

He groans and rolls against the silk sheets, his mind throwing him back to last night when Clint fell against his chest, the archer so close that Bucky could feel the heat from his body.

He groans again and pulls a pillow across his face, hoping that he might be able to suffocate himself before he has to spend another three days pining over Clint Barton. He tries desperately to shake the fluttery feeling he gets in his chest when he thinks about the Mickey and Minnie mouse ears the two posed in at Disney World; or the evening in Santa Fe when the pair were out in the pool looking at stars until 2am, or the way that Clint’s eyes danced with a spectrum of colours under the lights of the club. It’s hopeless.

 “I think I’m dying,” he hears Clint shout from beyond his door. Bucky pulls himself out from under the sheets and takes a deep breath, trying to shake the nerves.

“You sound pretty alive to me!” the apartment goes quiet before Clint pushes open the door to Bucky’s room, trudging in with his head in his hands.

“Nope, it’s actually just a hologram. I’m definitely dead.” Clint clambers onto Bucky’s bed and chucks himself face down on the pillows, a low groan emitting from his body as he does.

“Clint, Pal. You can’t hold a drink for shit. I’m pretty sure you didn’t even have that much last night.” Clint fumbles with the silk sheets before raising a hand to Bucky, his middle finger firmly stuck up. The assassin bats away the hand through laughter and then brings his flesh one down to the sensitive skin behind the archer’s ear, it’s all red and inflamed. “Did you sleep in your aids? You know how much that can fuck ‘em up.”

Clint shrugs and sighs as Bucky gently removes the hearing aid and runs soft fingers against the skin there, before tenderly running his fingers through Clint’s tousled blonde hair, prompting somewhat of a purr from the other man.

Bucky’s hand slips down against the bare skin of Clint’s shoulders, “Want me to run and get some breakfast?” he signs ever so softly against the taut of muscles of the archers shoulders.

Clint slips his head against the sheets so that he can see Bucky, his eyes are all blown and sleepy, light smudges of purple still sat under his eyes. He sighs again before reaching up to sign against Bucky’s collar bone, the scar tissue there kind of tender.

“No. Stay.”

Bucky stares at Clint for a long time, his flesh hand still drawing patters on the expanse of the man’s shoulders and back, even straying into the deep of his spine. Clint visibly shudders and draws in a sharp breath when Bucky carefully drags his fingers up the archer’s spine.

“Wake me up when it’s time to go.” Clint says against the sheets, his voice hoarse and louder than usual due to only having one hearing aid in. Bucky runs a gentle hand back down the tanned skin before leaning over and gently tugging out the other hearing aid, Clint nuzzling further into the sheets and making a satisfied noise as he does.

However, the morning is short lived and it’s not long before Bucky once again finds himself in the passenger seat of the Mustang, another cigarette in hand. He’s not feeling too great today, the recent events leading up to this moment have left the man feeling edgy and nervous, something that Clint hasn’t failed to pick up on given that Bucky’s onto his fourth cigarette and it’s only 11am.

“Look I know we said about Montana, but I was thinking we could maybe cut through Oregon. There’s this amazing national park where me and my brother went as kids, one of the only trips outside of the circus that I can remember. The weather will be perfect this time of year.”

Bucky looks over at Clint, relieved to hear the plan because that means they’ll be able to stop sooner and Bucky can escape the confinement of the car.

“Yeah sure.”

Clint turns to look at his companion, his grey eyes are wide but tired, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Sure?”

Bucky smiles and nods, “sure.”

It’s not even half an hour before they arrive, and Bucky has to admit, it is certainly something. He steps out of the car and breathes in the fresh scent of pine trees and clean air, the giant trees towering over him sway in the wind sending a handful of dried leaves cascading over him.

“This place is beautiful,” he confesses, his eyes drawn to the distant image of the crater, knowing that’s where they’re headed.

“Crater Lake National Park.” Clint declares taking his own moment to breathe in the air as he shrugs on his rucksack, “A few of us carnies snuck away and got the bus here whilst we were in town. We all sat out by the lake until gone midnight, it’s been a good 13 years but it’s still as stunning and calming as I remember it to be.”

Bucky watches with a growing sense of admiration. Clint Barton has always been brave, he’s heard the stories of his father and his days in SHIELD fighting even the most formidable of enemies, but he’s brave in other respects too. Bucky would never have dared to sneak away from his Ma’ at the age Clint was, he would of gotten a clip ‘round the ear and been sent to his room for the foreseeable future, that’s without being lumbered with washing duties for two weeks. But Clint is a free spirit, Bucky noted that a while ago when he went missing for a month or so, only to return covered in new cuts and bruises stating that he had some Russians to deal with, and even when Clint is at his happiest he can be elusive and erratic. But Bucky loves that about Clint, his ass’oclock in the morning surprise road trips being one of the best excursions Bucky has experienced so far.

“C’mon, you need to see the lake.” Clint all but leaps away from the car, excitement evident in the way he’s walking.

“I’ve never been to a national park, unless you count Central Park.”

Clint barks out a laugh and looks over his shoulder, “No, Buck. We’re not counting Central Park.”

“You sure?” Bucky chuckles as he clambers down the path to follow his friend. Clint glances over his shoulder again, his grin wide.

“I’m sure.”

Bucky surveys the scenery as the minutes tick by. It really is something, there’s wildlife at every turn, wolves; deer, bears, and a multitude of different birds, even a few hawks here and there. And Clint was right, the weather is so perfect, there’s a light breeze carrying leaves and pollen, the feel of it on Bucky’s warming cheeks welcome. And despite the cloudless sky, the sunlight is being shut out by the cover of the trees, though its heat still manages to come through in waves.

He stops for just a moment, taking in the warmth and the sounds of miles and miles of wilderness. He breathes slow and careful, gulps of fresh air hitting his lungs with such force that he almost chokes.

“You okay, Buck?”

He opens his eyes and Clint is there, only a few inches away, his face somewhere between concern and amusement. The assassin nods and smiles, a happy sigh falling from his lips.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Okay, well we’re only a few minutes away now.” Clint smiles broadly, his eyes fixed firmly on Bucky.

And as they hike up the last part of the trail, Bucky’s breath really is taken away. Mapped out in front of them is the most beautiful lake, the water gleaming like crystals, so translucent and bright under the heat of the midday sun. Bucky squints and can see families playing by the water, some adults daring to swim further into the lake.

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he can feel tears prickling at the edge of his vision, suddenly so grateful for this opportunity. 18 months ago he didn’t think he was going to live past 2 weeks in the tower, and now here he is, standing side by side with the most amazing person he’s ever met, in front of the most amazing place he’s ever seen. “Clint,” he whispers, his voice shaking a little

“You okay?” Clint moves to stand in front of his Bucky, his hands coming up to grasp at the other man’s shoulders, as if to shake him out of his daze. “Buck?”

Bucky’s head snaps up so that the two make direct eye contact, Clint’s expression thick with concern.

“Clint.” Bucky reaches out to touch Clint’s cheek, the stubble there being picked up by the delicate little sensors on his metal hand. “Thank you.”

Clint is blushing furiously, his chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace than before, “It’s okay. It’s…. It’s nothing really-“

Bucky leans forward to capture Clint’s lips with his own, trying so hard to ignore how fast his heart is thumping in his chest, and how there’s a hoard of nerves sat quivering in the pit of his stomach.

But Clint falls into Bucky’s arms, looping his own around the other man’s neck so that he can stabilise himself, and Clint fights with Bucky’s lips, the pair of them sweaty and hot from the 45 minutes spent hiking, Bucky is intoxicated by how Clint’s lips feel on his own; chapped, rough, and hot. They stay like that for a minute or so, wrapped up in one another, it’s only when Clint pulls away that Bucky is tethered back to reality, his whole body like jelly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” Clint whispers against Bucky’s lips, a cheeky smile playing on his own.

“Really?”

Clint laughs and pushes himself off of Bucky’s chest, moving to grab his hand in his own.

“You really are hopeless.”

Bucky laughs nervously before giving Clint’s hand a tight squeeze, one that earns him a fond wide-eyed look from the archer, “I guess I am.”


	41. Winterhawk/ ridiculously domestic.

It had been a damn long week, no exaggeration. AIM had made a reappearance and decided to try and rule the world (again) and in doing so, they took the president hostage. So that’s something Clint, Natasha, and Bucky had to deal with, whilst the others cleared up the rest of the mess the ridiculous organisation left behind.

Then, just when Clint thought he might actually be able to sit down and enjoy some coffee, Reed Richards decides to accidentally open an inter dimensional portal and infect New York with some more aliens, except these ones were highly intelligent, had their own language, and fought with weapons unlike anything either teams had seen.

That mess took an additional four days to clear up, and had left Clint with some broken ribs, a fractured spinal column, and a jaw that had to wired shut for two days.

So to say that he’s relieved that he’s finally sat in his favourite coffee, is an understatement.

He sinks into the sofa, wincing a little when his tender back protests a little to sliding motion, and settles himself in, snuggling into the oversized Stark industries hoodie he’s donning.

His whole body aches, a reminder that he’s not serum enhanced, a god, or has a metal suit to protect his fragile body, he’s just a normal guy with an exceptional skillset. But the latter doesn’t work to protect him from psychopathic scientists, or aliens with technology beyond his years.

He groans a little at the stiffness in his jaw, and when he looks over to peer in the reflection of the window, he sees himself as a child again. Remembers how Barney used to make him a hot toddy and force him to sit on the sofa and drink it all, used to say that it would help him sleep through the pain from the wounds inflicted by their dead beat dad.

Clint feels some emotions bubble up In the pit of his stomach, and his heartbeat picks up a little at the thought of being so vulnerable, except this time he hasn’t gone Barney to patch up his wounds and help him sleep. He’s on his own in a world full of extraordinary people.

He takes a sharp swig of his coffee, the burning sensation and dull pains working to counteract the thoughts creeping up into the darkest corners of his mind.

“You okay?”

Clint peers up past the hood of his jumper, and meets Bucky’s gaze. The man looks how Clint feels. He’s got an immense bruise flowering across his right eye, and his lip is split. He too is wearing a hoodie, though his is just a plain black one. He’s got the hood pulled up and the sleeves curled over his hands, and for someone so muscly and intimidating, Bucky Barnes looks no more terrifying than a kitten.

“Yeah, just tired.” Clint mumbles, sighing as he stares out at the streets of Brooklyn. It’s a particularly bitter day, the pavements are lined with snow and ice, and commuters dance their way along the slippery surfaces, wrapped up in thick winter coats and scarfs.

Clint feels the sofa shift beside him, and it’s not long before Bucky is gently edging the archer into his lap, using his strength to maneuver Clint In a way that won’t exacerbate his injuries.

The archer sighs heavily and leans back against the other man, gently cradling his head against Bucky’s shoulder and closing his eyes, taking in the warmth and comfort of his situation.

“We should run away.” Bucky whispers, his lips ghosting across the cold skin of Clint’s forehead.

“What’d you mean?” The archer mumbles, his voice quiet and almost unintelligible.

“We should just give up this whole avenging crap.”

Clint snorts and opens one eye to look up at his boyfriend.

“Yeah, okay.”

Bucky huffs and loops his arms around Clint, pulling him in closer.

“I’m being deadly serious. It’s hardly like there’s not enough of the Fantastic Four and Young Avengers to cover the safety of planet earth.” Bucky sighs and leans in place a feathery kiss on Clint’s cheek. “Could you imagine? A big old apartment. Me, you, and Lucky. We could have uninterrupted Pizza nights, grills on the roof in the summer. Steve and Tony can have their own place not far from us, and Natasha can come and stay with us when she’s bored.”

Clint opens both eyes now, fully looking up at Bucky. He’s watching the world beyond the window, and although he seems relaxed, his expression is lined with a sad kind of desperation.

Clint shifts his weight a bit and carefully turns to face his boyfriend, placing his drink on the table and reaching up to place a warm hand on Bucky’s unshaven cheek.

“How about we talk about with the others later this week? Whether they want to join us or not is up to them, but we both deserve a life.” Clint whispers carefully, the speech earning him a coy smile from the other man.

“God, I love you.” Bucky chuckles, placing a soft kiss on Clint’s coffee stained lips.

“I love you too.”  


End file.
